


Undercover

by Maxine_Gold



Series: Partners [1]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Pretend sex, So much angst, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vaginal Fingering, then real sex later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 64,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxine_Gold/pseuds/Maxine_Gold
Summary: There's a serial killer who has been watching happy couples by wiring their homes with cameras. Jane and Lisbon agree to go undercover as a newly married couple to catch the killer. Their every move will be watched, so they have to be convincing, but when real feelings start getting in the way, things quickly get out of hand. Can their friendship and partnership survive, or will it be transformed into something more?
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Series: Partners [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624810
Comments: 261
Kudos: 451





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This story is finished. I'll be posting chapters regularly. I'm editing and reformatting as I go, so it depends how quickly I do that. Just know that I won't abandon you, this will be complete.  
> I guess I'm gonna say this takes place sometime in season 3? It's kinda vague. I reference a few things that came later, but no major spoilers if anyone is concerned with that.

Lisbon knocked on Hightower’s open office door.

“Hey, boss, you wanted to see me?”

“Lisbon,” Hightower looked up from her computer, “yes, come in. Shut the door behind you.” She waited while Lisbon settled in the chair across from her. “I have a case - well, actually, the FBI has a case, and they’re asking us for a favor.”

“Okay,” Lisbon said slowly.

“It’s unusual, and a bit tricky, which is why they’re asking for outside help.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Lisbon asked.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, whatever it is has to be pretty bad for the FBI to be asking _us_ for favors. They aren’t exactly our biggest fans.”

Hightower frowned. “No, they really aren’t. All the more reason for us to be cooperative. Maybe if we scratch their back, they’ll get off ours.”

“OK, so what’s the favor?”

“They want you and Jane to go undercover as newlyweds.”

“That’s it?” Lisbon was surprised. She didn’t exactly love the idea, but she hardly thought it warranted this amount of hedging from Hightower.

“No, there’s more.”

* * *

Lisbon hated this plan. She hated it with every fiber of her being. She also hated the delighted grin on Jane’s face when FBI Agent Victor Manderley explained the plan to the team.

Over the last 10 years, three couples had gone missing from the same house in Bruxtin, CA, and later turned up dead. During the investigation of the last couple, the local police called in the FBI because they thought it had to be more than coincidence, and they were right. When the FBI investigated, they discovered a signal coming from the home. Someone had wired the whole place with cameras, and used them to watch the couples, stalking them for weeks, sometimes months before abducting and killing them. Unfortunately, whoever was watching was very good at covering their tracks, and the FBI had been unable to trace the signal back to them. Confident that the killer didn’t know the FBI had tapped into the signal, they decided to lay a trap by sending in an undercover team.

At first, it seemed like it was working. The FBI techs could tell when the signal was active and when it wasn’t, and the killer was definitely watching the undercover team at first. But as time went on, the killer watched less and less, and soon the signal went dead for good.

The FBI figured that was that, and were ready to move on, but then another house in Arcfield, less than half an hour from Sacramento, was found to have a similar history. Two couples reported missing, and then found dead - one 8 years ago and another 2 years ago. The house was currently empty, but the techs found the same signal coming from it once every month, as though the killer were checking in to see if it was occupied.

“The question,” Agent Manderley was explaining, “is why the killer became disinterested in our previous undercover couple.”

“They weren’t his type,” Jane said with a shrug, as though it were obvious.

“That’s exactly what we thought.” Manderley tapped a key on his computer, and 5 pictures of 5 couples came up on the large monitor. “These are the couples that were killed. And these,” he tapped another key and another collection of photos went up on the second monitor, “are people who lived in the houses sometime over a period of 10 years, and are still alive.”

Viewed side-by-side like that, it was very obvious. First, not all of the pictures on the second monitor were couples. Second, every couple on the first monitor were white; the man blond, with light-colored eyes, the woman with dark hair and light-colored eyes. Jane and Lisbon would fit right in.

“It can’t just be physical,” Cho said, “there has to be more to it.”

“Yes,” Manderley agreed, “we think so as well. Which is why you, Rigsby and Van Pelt will be working with my team to go over every detail of the 5 couples who were killed. We need to look into every aspect of their lives leading up to their deaths. I also want to go over every lead and piece of evidence from the original investigations - both from the missing persons cases and the homicide cases. In the meantime, Mr. Jane and Agent Lisbon will move into the house and assume their cover identities. We’re hoping that a certain amount of…” he eyed Jane, “theatricality, will play to our advantage here.”

“Yes, well, you’ve certainly come to the right people,” Jane said with a blinding smile. “I can already see we fit the profile beyond simple aesthetics. The husbands are all a bit flashy, no doubt very successful in their chosen fields and not afraid to show it. The wives all work in lower paid, but morally rewarding jobs: teachers, public service - jobs that involve helping people. At first glance, they don’t make an obvious match, and yet it works. All of them were in genuinely loving relationships, born of mutual respect and admiration. I think Lisbon and I will fit nicely, don’t you?” He turned to her and winked. The asshole actually winked! She was so going to regret this…

* * *

After the main briefing with the team, Manderley and Jane went into Hightower’s office to have a more private discussion. When they emerged some while later, Lisbon thought Jane looked rather subdued. She caught his eye and waved him into her office where she shut the blinds in a clear ‘do not disturb’ sign.

“You can say ‘no’ if you don’t want to do this,” she said without preamble. Jane took his time easing down onto her couch, crossing his legs and resting both hands on his knee before he looked up at her.

“Do you want me to say ‘no’?” he asked. Lisbon thought about this for a moment. The fact that Jane was suddenly taking this whole thing deadly serious was a relief, to say the least. She knew he’d been caught up in the idea of the playacting aspects earlier, and hadn’t really thought through what this would involve. Now that he’d been given the whole scope of what they were being asked to do… his excitement was tempered.

“I want you to do whatever you need to, and not worry about me. Hightower spoke to me first, remember? I knew exactly what I was signing up for. I’m not going to say I don’t have concerns…” she grimaced at the understatement - hadn’t she just been thinking about how much she hated this plan? But, if she was being honest, she didn’t hate it for the reasons she _should_ be hating it, and that was what worried her.

She thought back to her conversation with Hightower…

_“It won’t just be the day-to-day of domestic life, you understand?” Hightower said. “There are other, obvious aspects of marriage that you and Jane will have to simulate.”_

_Lisbon nodded. She’d already made that leap when Hightower told her that the first undercover team had been married in real life._

_“Obviously, no one is expecting you to actually…” Hightower trailed off, but Lisbon nodded._

_“I understand.”_

_“Teresa,” Hightower said, moving to catch her gaze. Lisbon realized she had been staring at the desk without really seeing it, and met Hightower’s eyes. “You don’t have to do this. If you say ‘no’ I will back you 100%.”_

_“No,” Lisbon said. Then quickly, “no I mean, yes - I’ll do it. I mean, I’m okay with this. As long as… Jane has to be okay too. I consent, if he does.”_

_Hightower looked at her for a long time, assessing whether or not she really meant it. At last, she nodded, seeming satisfied with what she saw._

_“Of course we’ll ask Jane the same. I want the FBI to brief the team first, though. Get the overview done with, and then we’ll talk to Jane privately, make sure he’s onboard. And if, for even a moment, I don’t think he’s taking this seriously, I’m calling this off.”_

“‘Concerns’?” Jane repeated, calling her back to the present.

“‘Concerns’,” she said firmly. “This isn’t going to be easy, and the only way it’s going to work is if you and I are honest with each other. No games, Jane.” She fixed him with her Stern Parent Look, the one she had perfected while raising three brothers.

“No games,” he said solemnly. She believed him. God help her. “Still,” he continued, a sly smile spreading across his face, “sounds like fun, don’t you think?”

Lisbon rolled her eyes.

* * *

It took another week to hammer out all the details of their cover identities. They weren’t sure exactly how much the killer watched them - whether it was only while in the house, or if he followed them to work and other places - so they needed credible workplaces and the like. Jane would take a job as a salesman at a high-end luxury car dealership. It was a natural fit with Jane’s charm and persuasiveness. Lisbon, it was decided, would continue to work at CBI, though she would not be listed as an agent, but rather, as an administrative assistant. They needed a place where they could be briefed and talk openly without fear of being watched, which meant a secure building. It also fit the profile of the other wives, while allowing Lisbon the opportunity to work the case with the rest of the team, even if she couldn’t go out into the field.

Every morning, Jane would drive Lisbon to CBI, go in with her to be briefed on any updates, then go to his own job, and finally, pick her up again at CBI in the evening. This gave both of them time when they could be sure they weren’t being watched.

While at home, the signal would be monitored only when they knew the killer was watching. Someone would always be in contact to let Jane and Lisbon know when it was safe to let their guard down a little - not that any of this was entirely safe. Their one piece of luck was that the FBI was 100% certain the signal was picture only, no sound. They would still be cautious about discussing anything to do with the case while in the house, just on the off-chance the killer could read lips, but it granted them a certain amount of wiggle room if something urgent came up and they needed to communicate while the cameras were live.

Based on the last time the signal was live, they expected it to go on again soon. While it was dark, the FBI, dressed as movers, staged the house. They also added a few other cameras to the exterior so they would have more coverage of the entrances and exits. Those would transmit 24/7, in case the killer showed up either to stalk them in person, or try to enter the house. The same was true with the dealership where Jane worked. They would also be given their own security details when they were away from the house - agents who would keep their distance, but be close enough (hopefully) to render aid if necessary. Lisbon had to admit to being impressed with how thorough the FBI was in setting this up, and resolved to do her part to the best of her ability.

* * *

A week and a half after Hightower first pulled her into her office, Lisbon and Jane found themselves sitting down to dinner in what was to be their home for the next however-long-it-took. No one was sure exactly how long the killer had stalked his victims before abducting and killing them. The guesses ranged from weeks to months, and it seemed that every couple was different. Officially, the FBI had declared the operation would last as long as the killer was still watching regularly. Unofficially, the top brass would only sanction the money and manpower for a period of 3 months. If they hadn’t caught their guy by then, the op would be scrapped.

Jane poured them each a glass of wine and sat down across the table from her. They had arrived earlier in the day and spent it familiarizing themselves with the house (including exactly where all of the cameras were) and unpacking their personal belongings. Around 6PM, Jane had gone into the kitchen to cook while Lisbon took a last look at their bedroom and tried to calm her nerves.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Jane; for all that she often told him she didn’t. When it came to the big picture stuff, she trusted him completely. She trusted him to be with her when the stakes were high. They were partners, after all, and they had each other’s backs.

And she knew he was taking the implications of the more intimate aspects of their charade very seriously. They’d had several more conversations about it over the last week. In a weird way, it helped that she knew he was just as anxious about it as she was. As far as she knew, Jane had barely even dated since his wife died, if at all. Being intimate with another woman, even if it was just pretend, was going to be difficult for him. It was going to be difficult for her too, but in a different way.

Lisbon looked at him across the dinner table and pushed down the sudden panic. She reached for her wine glass, almost knocking it over in her haste, spilling a few drops on the tablecloth.

“Dammit,” she said, wiping the spilled wine off her fingers with her napkin. She looked up to find Jane watching her with a carefully blank expression.

“It’s just dinner, Lisbon. He isn’t even watching yet.”

“I know,” she snapped. Jane set down his fork, his eyes never leaving her. “Sorry,” she said, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy. It’s stupid. You’re right, of course.”

“We can still call this off,” he said. “No one would blame you.” She looked steadily back at him, his normally expressive face completely closed to her. Maybe if she had his talent she could read the thoughts behind his eyes, but she didn’t. She took a deep breath - then another - reached out with a steady hand to lift her glass once more and took a sip.

“I don’t want to call it off. It’s just… a little stage fright, I guess.” She smiled at him apologetically. He watched her for a few more seconds, then nodded once and picked up his fork again.

They ate in silence for a while, an undercurrent of tension remaining, though the bubbling panic had receded. They’d eaten plenty of meals together over the years, and had always been comfortable in each other’s company, even when they weren’t speaking. Slowly, that familiarity returned to them now, and Lisbon felt the knot in her stomach start to ease. Although, she thought with a frown as Jane poured her a third glass of wine, the alcohol was probably helping.

“The house is nice,” Jane said, gesturing with his fork. Lisbon sipped her newly filled glass and nodded. “The walk-in closet is especially nice seeing as I had the FBI buy me a few new suits,” he flashed a smile at her.

“Yeah, I saw. Not that you would take advantage, or anything.” She raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed.

“Well, what with the new job and all - have to keep up appearances.” They grinned at each other, and the last of the tension drained away entirely. This was just another meal shared between close friends. 

They were silent again for a while, and then Jane cleared his throat and Lisbon worried he was about to say something that would dispel the comfortable atmosphere they had fought so hard for.

“I was also thinking, the closet is a good… um, safe zone, of sorts.”

She frowned at him.

“That is,” he explained, “there are no cameras in there, so it’s one of the few truly private spaces in the house, and maybe we could agree that when one of us is in there, the other lets them have their… privacy.”

Lisbon puzzled out the subtext of his words, and realized he was trying to preserve her modesty. It was so unexpectedly sweet and simultaneously ridiculous she was momentarily at a loss for words. She had gone into this knowing the killer and whichever agent was on duty while the cameras were live (and likely Jane as well) would see her naked. There was a camera in the bathroom, after all (not, thank god, at an angle which included the toilet, Lisbon did have her limits) and she had to shower. She had thought a lot about this aspect, actually. It wasn’t that she was self-conscious, necessarily - she knew she had a nice body - but the idea of some skeezy killer watching her undress made her stomach turn. Not to mention that she would need to act like she wasn’t being watched, that she was completely comfortable and confident. And then add to _that_ the fact that Patrick Jane was likely to get an eye-full of way more of her than she usually displayed (and vice versa) was enough to make her blush like a schoolgirl. Still, all of this had already been carefully considered, and she had agreed anyway. Jane giving her a space she could go to change where he wouldn’t venture so long as she was in there was a little like putting the top on after you’ve already spilled the whole bottle.

Lisbon started to laugh; a small, quiet chuckle at first, and then she sucked in a breath and let out a fully belly laugh. Jane, initially stunned by her reaction, eventually joined her until the two of them were gasping for breath, and Lisbon’s stomach hurt.

“Okay,” Jane wheezed, “okay, I can see how that might sound…” he searched for the word.

At the same time as he said “ridiculous” Lisbon said “moronic?” and they both broke into laughter again.

“I just mean,” Jane tried again, “we should at least set some boundaries.” Lisbon nodded, still trying to get herself under control. “Your friendship means a lot to me,” he continued, calmer now, “and I don’t want to come out of this having achieved our goal but forever damaged that friendship.” The sincerity in his eyes sobered her. Shyly, she reached across the table and took his hand.

“Thank you. Your friendship means a lot to me too and-” she cut off as she felt her phone buzz against her leg. Jane’s hand convulsed around hers and she knew he’d gotten a text also. It was Cho warning them the signal was live, it had to be. She didn’t dare look away from Jane or move her hand back, but she felt caught, frozen in a spotlight.

Jane’s eyes sharpened into something more intense, like they had just been discussing something a lot more intimate than friendship. It was subtle, but she could tell the difference, could feel it in the way he held her hand, and she was forced to admit she was impressed. She tried her best to mimic him, letting a slow smile spread over her face like she was deliriously happy and in love. He pulled her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss there.

“Just relax, Teresa,” he murmured against her knuckles. A strange thrill went through her when he said her name. He never called her ‘Teresa’. He released her hand then and picked up his wine glass. “To our new home,” he said, raising it in a toast. Lisbon picked up her own glass.

“To our new home,” she repeated, and clinked her glass against his.

For the rest of the meal, they discussed the house, the furnishings and how they might rearrange this or that, and their plans for the rest of the week. At one point, Jane pulled out his phone to read the text.

“Just work, nothing that can’t wait,” he said, which meant ‘yes, the signal is live’.

When they finished dinner, Lisbon moved to clear the table and wash the dishes. Jane had cooked after all, it was only fair.

As she washed, Jane came and stood beside her to dry and put away. It was all very domestic, but Lisbon was distracted knowing the camera (and therefore the killer) was watching her every move.

“What were you going to say?” Jane asked quietly, resuming their interrupted conversation. Technically, they weren’t supposed to discuss anything not in line with their cover ids while the signal was live, but with their backs to the camera, she didn’t see much harm in it.

“Just that I’m okay with… with everything, and I know things may get… uncomfortable at times, but I knew that going in. I appreciate the offer, and I think you’re right about the boundaries. The closet can be a safe zone, so long as you know it’s a safe zone for both of us, not just me. If you need a space to retreat to, away from me, for whatever reason, that’s okay too.” He nodded and she turned to look up at him and smiled. He returned the look and the smile, and for a moment, she thought he was going to bend down and kiss her when the pot she was washing slipped out of her hands and banged against the sink. 

“Shit!” she swore. Jane laughed and she glowered at him, covering her embarrassment with anger. “You think that’s funny, do you?” she cocked an eyebrow at him. His laughter died as he started to back away, hands held out like a shield.

“Hey, now,” he said, “not the new suit…” but before he could finish speaking Lisbon flicked soapy water at him. He ducked away and she pursued him, continuing to fling suds with deadly accuracy, chasing him around the kitchen. They were laughing, enjoying the playful energy. Eventually, once Jane had suds in his hair and all down his front he called for a truce, and Lisbon relented. They returned to their positions at the sink, Jane using the drying towel to clean up, and finished the dishes without further incident.

Lisbon was confident they had played the moment off well, but it had raised an issue she wished they had discussed before now. And so, later, as they were getting ready to go to bed, Lisbon was changing into pajamas in the walk-in closet and was struck with an idea. She finished changing, pushed the not quite closed door fully open and called out.

“Patrick? Can you help me with this bag?”

He appeared in the doorway, puzzled.

“I want to talk a moment, away from…” she said quietly. He nodded and moved fully into the closet where they couldn’t be seen.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Maybe it’s silly,” she began, but Jane shook his head immediately.

“Can we agree that nothing either of us is feeling about this situation is ever to be considered silly?” he asked, and she smiled gratefully.

“Done. I was thinking earlier that you and I have never… kissed. For real. And I don’t think… that is-”

“You don’t think our first kiss should be in front of a voyeuristic serial killer and our friend and colleague Kimball Cho,” he finished for her.

“Right,” she said.

“I agree.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, then Jane raised his hands to her face and gently tipped her chin back. He leaned toward her, and she closed her eyes. The faintest brush of lips against hers and then again with more pressure. He pulled back just slightly and her lips parted and when next she felt him press against them, his tongue slipped in, a quick slide of velvet against her own. She reached up to run a hand through his hair, holding the back of his head to encourage him to stay, to keep kissing her. It was warm and sweet and slow, no urgency, just two people enjoying each other for a moment.

When they finally broke apart, both of their breathing had picked up a little, and they looked into each other’s eyes waiting for their hearts to slow once more.

“Good thing we did that in private,” Jane said, his voice a low rumble, “your face is glowing like the sun.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking him on the arm. He flashed his brilliant smile at her and she tried to glower at him, though there was no real malice behind it. She knew he was right, she could feel the flush on her face, as well as other… places. A wave of embarrassment threatened to drown her, and she looked away hastily before he could read it on her face. But she was too late. He chased down her gaze, his hand a gentle guide on her chin.

“Lisbon, don’t do that, please. Don’t try to shut me out. We promised to be honest, remember? There’s nothing wrong with enjoying kissing me, I’m an excellent kisser,” he gave her a lopsided smile and cocked an eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes.

“Stop that,” she said.

“Stop what?” His tone was all innocence, but his eyes would tempt the devil himself. “I _am_ an excellent kisser. So are you, if I’m being honest, though I’m hardly surprised. We’ve always made a good team.” She couldn’t help but mirror his grin.

Lisbon’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment. She grabbed it from the shelf where she’d set it while she changed and saw that Cho was calling.

“Cho? What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.

“I was going to ask you guys the same thing. You disappeared into the closet and never came back out. What’s going on?”

“Oh, right,” Lisbon said, looking guiltily at Jane. She had completely forgotten they had a job to do. “Sorry, we just needed to discuss something off camera. We’re coming out now.” Jane was already exiting the closet at her words. She hung up with Cho.

“I think I left my book in the car,” Jane called as he headed out of the bedroom. “Be right back.”

Lisbon went out of the closet and set her phone down on the bedside table closest to the door, and pulled back the covers on that side of the bed. Then she stopped. _Which side would Jane prefer?_ she wondered. She had automatically chosen this side because if someone came through the door, she wanted to put herself between them and Jane. Too late to change her mind now, she slid into bed, wishing her gun was in the bedside table instead of in a safe in the closet. Nothing she could do about that either. She had to put her trust in Cho and the others who would be monitoring the exterior cameras throughout the night. They wouldn’t let the killer slip by them, and anyway, it was only the first night.

Jane returned with his book which he set on the other bedside table without batting an eye. Lisbon was engrossed in a briefing packet, reading over details of the other cases, while Jane went into the closet to change, then into the bathroom for a while. When he came out, he shut off all the lights except those on the bedside tables and pulled back the covers on his side. Lisbon snuck a sideways glance at him, curious. She’d never seen Jane in anything but a suit, and the sight of him in navy blue two-piece button down pajamas was both strange and yet somehow exactly what she had imagined.

He settled back against the pillows and picked up his book. Lisbon tried to keep reading her packet, but she was too distracted. The bed wasn’t huge, and even though they could both sit comfortably together without touching, they were still close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him. Jane always ran hot, she knew from experience. Standing next to him could sometimes feel like she was standing next to a furnace, which was strange because the heat never seemed to get to him. He was almost always dressed in his three piece suits, no matter what the temperature, and she would have sworn she’d never seen him so much as break a sweat. Lisbon tended to run cold, so it was nice actually, to have her own portable heater, and she had taken advantage of this on more than one occasion when the weather turned colder.

She gave up trying to read, faked a yawn, then yawned for real, set down the packet and turned off her light. Jane looked over as she leaned in to him.

“Goodnight,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He set his open book on his lap and drew her back for another, slightly longer kiss.

“Goodnight,” he said. “You mind if I read a bit longer?”

“Not at all,” she smiled, then turned and settled down and shut her eyes. They had already decided to take things easy the first few nights, just sleeping together in the same bed was enough, no other… activities. She expected to lay awake for a long time, but surprised herself by drifting off almost immediately.

* * *

Jane listened as Lisbon’s breathing grew slower and deeper until he was sure she had dropped off to sleep. He continued to run his eyes over the pages and turn them at regular intervals, but in truth he hadn’t absorbed a single word.

When he had first heard this plan to catch a killer, he’d thought it sounded fun, like immersive theatre. Also, a chance to mess with Lisbon, one of his favorite pastimes - bonus! But as the full realization of what it would entail hit him, he’d been… concerned. He smiled to himself at the thought. Isn’t that exactly the word Lisbon had used? “I have… concerns.”

There was something inside him - a feeling he hadn’t let himself look at too closely. But he’d known it was there for quite some time now, and he knew it had to do with Lisbon. He hesitated to name it, even to himself. He didn’t dare, not until Red John was dead. Maybe then, maybe after… but he couldn’t finish that thought either. What if there was no ‘after’ Red John? He knew he would pursue Red John until one of them killed the other, but even if Jane was the one that came out ahead… what then? He wanted to believe it would be enough, that he could finally move forward after all these years stuck in park. But he didn’t know for sure. Maybe he was just too broken, maybe he always had been.

Or maybe he’d end up in prison? He had made no secret of his desire for revenge, and he had no illusions that he would be able to cover his tracks cleanly. His best hope would be to run. What kind of future was that to offer… someone?

Shaking these thoughts away, he put down his book and switched off the light. Careful not to wake Lisbon, he eased down beside her, laying on his back and blinking up at the ceiling in the near-darkness. He patted his phone where it lay in the pocket on his chest. When he went to get his book from the car, he’d called Cho and asked him to let him know when the signal went dark. He had no intention of sleeping (or rather, pretending to sleep) next to Lisbon all night. Surely the killer had to sleep sometime, and Jane just hoped he would shut off the cameras first.

He closed his eyes and listened to Lisbon breathe. He thought about the feel of her hand in his hair, the wet slide of her lips, the soft gasp of her breath when they broke apart. Just the memory was enough to stir certain other interested parts of his anatomy, and he took a deep breath and forced his thoughts away, using his biofeedback tricks to calm his heartbeat and (hopefully) force the blood to run back up into his brain where it belonged. Biofeedback was useful, but it wasn’t magic - just one of many tricks he had learned. Still, after a few minutes it worked, and he was in control once more.

He turned his thoughts to Red John again, going over all the evidence in his mind as he had every night since he’d first read the files. After that, he broke down his latest theories, testing them, seeing where they didn’t hold up, casting about for new ones.

His phone finally buzzed against his chest and he turned away from Lisbon to check it under the covers so no light would escape. It was Cho telling him the signal was dark. He waited another few minutes to be sure, then got carefully out of bed and slipped downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love getting comments, and I do try to respond to them, but just know I might forget, especially if I'm on my phone when I see them. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate you. Comments are the best and will always bring a smile to my face!  
> I really hope people like this story, I worked really hard on it, and I'm pretty proud of how it turned out!  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's their first night together in the house, and Lisbon is about to find out how little Jane actually sleeps.

Lisbon woke with the feeling that something was wrong. She lay still for a while, trying to pinpoint what exactly had her alarms going off. She rolled over and found that she was alone. The alarms got louder. She switched on the lamp beside her and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, but where was Jane?

She got up, slipping her phone in the pocket of her sweats and resisted the urge to get her gun out of the safe. If something were _that_ wrong, Cho would have alerted her. She moved silently down the hallway and then the stairs. Everything was dark, silent and still. She felt like a ghost, gliding through the house until she came to the kitchen.

“Lisbon?” Jane whispered, sending Lisbon’s heart into overdrive.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly but with feeling. “Dammit, Jane,” she hissed, “what the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark?” As her eyes adjusted, she could just make him out sitting at the island in the kitchen. The moonlight from the window over the sink spilled over the island, illuminating a glass, a bottle of what looked like whiskey, and one hand.

“Sorry,” Jane whispered back. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I… couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d have a drink. Don’t worry, the signal’s dead, nobody watching. Cho told me.”

“Then why are you sitting in the _dark_ ,” she repeated between clenched teeth. He made some gesture she interpreted as a shrug.

“I didn’t turn on the light in case someone was watching from the street.”

“And what if the signal comes back on? You know the cameras have night vision, right? How is it going to look, you sitting in the kitchen, in the dark, alone? Drinking?”

“Meh, he’s not going to turn it back on. It’s the middle of the night, even killers have to sleep.”

“As opposed to CBI consultants, I suppose,” she grumbled.

“You’re rather grouchy for someone who’s only had four hours of sleep.”

She glowered in his direction, but the effect was somewhat diminished when neither of them could see the other clearly. She heard him sigh, and then he picked up his glass, the sound of swallowing loud in the silence.

“Go back to bed, Lisbon,” he said. “Sorry I worried you, but there was no need. I’m fine.”

Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t see him and, therefore, couldn’t be distracted by that dazzling smile, but she knew he was lying. Defeated, she groped her way to the other stool and sat next to him.

“You mind?” she asked, and picked up his glass without waiting for an answer. She drained it, poured another two fingers, took a sip, then set it back down.

“We’re sharing drinks now?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his low voice.

“We’ve already kissed tonight, a few times. What are you going to give me I don’t already have?” As the words were leaving her mouth she realized her mistake, but it was too late to take them back now. She was suddenly very grateful for the darkness as she felt herself flush with embarrassment. _What could he give her, indeed?_ her traitorous mind asked.

She heard him shift beside her and had the wild notion that he’d heard the unspoken thought, which was ridiculous. Jane was not psychic. Jane could not hear her thoughts, no matter how loud they sounded in her own head.

“So, what’s going on with you?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Nothing, I told you, I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Right… but why? Something on your mind?”

“Not particularly.”

“Was I snoring too loud?”

“Yes, like a jet engine. I was afraid the walls were going to collapse.”

She smacked him.

“Ow! And now you’re hitting me. Oh yes, very restful, this one.”

“I don’t snore,” she said.

“Then why did you ask?”

“Jane,” she pleaded.

“Okay, okay. The truth is… I don’t actually… sleep… much.”

Lisbon thought about the number of times she’d come into the CBI to find Jane asleep on his couch, obviously having stayed there all night. As well as all the times he would nap during the day on that same couch. She knew he was as addicted to the job as she was, so she’d never really thought about it before. But now, with this admission, she suddenly had a much clearer picture of what Jane’s life looked like. Red John and the CBI were all he had. He rarely went home, and then only when he was punishing himself, and otherwise he lived in a motel room. Except no one could really _live_ in a motel room. It was a transitory existence, impersonal and hollow. So, truthfully, Patrick Jane’s home was his couch at CBI headquarters.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said, “you finish your drink, and then come up with me and just lay down for a while.” He didn’t answer. “Please?”

“I appreciate what you’re doing, Lisbon, really I do, but it’s not necessary. I can function on very little sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you can, my worry is that you won’t be able to nap on your couch tomorrow because you’ll have to be, you know, actually working for a change.”

“This implies I wasn’t working while I was napping on my couch, and I want you to know that I am deeply offended. Some of my absolute best work came from napping.”

“I’m sure it did, but my point still stands. You have a real job to go to tomorrow, you need your rest.”

“Again, implying that what I do for you is somehow not a ‘real job’ and again: deeply offended.”

Lisbon put her face in her hands and groaned in frustration.

“Jane,” she cried, “please.”

“Oh all right.” She could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “But only if you have one more drink with me.”

“Fine.”

Jane poured two fingers of whiskey and pushed the glass toward her. Lisbon drained it and handed it back. He poured slightly more than two fingers for himself and knocked it back.

They got back into bed and Lisbon checked her phone: no new texts, the signal was still dark. The clock told her it was almost 4AM, and she was exhausted, but even though she lay down with every intention of setting a good example and going right to sleep, she found herself blinking up at the ceiling in the darkness. Jane’s breathing was quiet and even beside her, and she knew that he, too, lay awake listening to the silence.

Her thoughts chased themselves around her head for a while. Thoughts about Jane and where he would be without the CBI. What would have happened to him if he hadn’t tagged along on that case? Hadn’t impressed Virgil enough to hire him on as a consultant?

She thought about how sad and unsure he had been then. The look on his face when he’d insisted he was a fraud, a charlatan, that he couldn’t help her. The way he’d wandered around the CBI like a lost puppy. And then, how he’d slowly regained confidence with every case he helped them close, putting on a smile and a swagger like one might put on a suit. 

He’d been broken and the CBI had put him back together. No, not the CBI, _they_ had put him back together; her and Cho and Rigsby, and even Van Pelt for all that she came later. The team was his family.

And, in a way, they were all like that. Rigsby, first abandoned and then estranged from his criminal father; Cho, who cut ties with his past and forged a new path for himself; Van Pelt, full of ambition and eager to establish herself in the eyes of a successful and often domineering father; and of course, Lisbon, who raised three brothers and held them together through their alcoholic and abusive father’s suicide.

They were all broken in one way or another, but they had made each other whole.

With that strangely hopeful and heart-warming thought, Lisbon drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She woke suddenly and painfully when an arm whacked her in the stomach.

“What-?” she croaked.

“Sorry, Lisbon. Sorry.” Jane sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, turning his back to her. She could just make him out, hunched over, face in his hands.

“What was that? You practicing karate in your sleep?” Lisbon asked, sitting up. She felt awful, like she’d only gotten maybe an hour or two of sleep. She checked the clock, and sure enough, it was just after 6AM.

“No, sorry. It’s nothing. Go back to sleep,” Jane said, his voice muffled by his hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked. She reached out to touch his shoulder and found that he was trembling. “Jane?” He wiped his hand over his face then through his hair, making the curls spring erratically.

He let out a strangled half-laugh, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry. It’s nothing. Just a nightmare.”

_Of course_ , Lisbon thought, _if I’d walked into a room to find my family murdered, I would have nightmares too._ In fact, Lisbon did have nightmares - bad ones. She’d seen too much death not to.

She scooted closer to him, and rubbed her hands over his back soothingly. His breathing was too rapid, and there was a slight hitch, like he was holding back tears.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” she whispered. She hesitated for a moment before pressing herself against his back, hugging him to her, laying her head on his shoulder. A sound escaped him, a kind of choked hiccup. She held on tighter, trying to put all the comfort and support she could in the embrace. He made no other sounds after that, but the shaking took a while to stop.

“Sorry I woke you,” he said hoarsely. He sounded exhausted, his voice flat, devoid of its usual lilt. She squeezed him a little.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Sometimes it helps…” she tried, but he shook his head. She finally let go of him, rubbing her hands down his arms. “Do you think you can go back to sleep?” He shook his head again. “Will you at least try?” He moved to lie down as she suggested, but it bothered her that he wasn’t arguing. Everything was an argument, everything a negotiation. That he would obey so easily made her nervous.

She tried to read his face in the darkness, but couldn’t.

Suppressing a sigh, she laid down next to him, curled on her side, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

“I have this recurring dream - nightmare,” she corrected herself, “about my brothers. In the nightmare, I’m driving, and they’re in the back seat of the car, and I’m always whatever age I am in real life, but they’re always children. The ages they were when mom died and dad started…” she trailed off. She felt his shoulder shift beneath her hand, a kind of acknowledgement of her abusive childhood. “So I’m driving, and it’s really dark. So dark, I can just barely see the road ahead, and I have this bad feeling, like I’m going to crash the car. I try to slow down, but the brakes aren’t working - in fact, the harder I press them, the faster we go. My brothers start crying, and I try to comfort them, while still trying to get the car under control, but I can’t. And we’re going so fast by this point, and the road that was straight is suddenly full of turns… And then, on one of the turns I lose control completely, and the car tilts and rolls off the road. My brothers are screaming and all I can do is hold onto the steering wheel and wait for the crash. But it never comes. We just fall into endless darkness, my brothers screaming and screaming… And then I wake up.”

Silence fell when she finished, and she waited for him to say something.

“Doesn’t take a psychiatrist to understand why you would be dreaming about loss of control and being unable to protect your brothers,” he said, voice almost normal again.

“No,” she smiled sadly, “it doesn’t.” She waited again, hoping he would open up, but not wanting to press him if he wasn’t ready. She closed her eyes and almost started to drift off when he finally broke the silence.

“You would think it would be Red John in my nightmares. And, yes, sometimes I dream of him - a faceless monster killing my wife and daughter over and over. But those aren’t the really bad ones.” He shuddered, paused, then drew a deep breath. “The bad ones are the ones where I’m holding the knife.”

Lisbon winced. She knew he blamed himself for their deaths, but to dream about killing them… No wonder he doesn’t sleep.

“You could talk to someone, you know,” she said.

“I did talk to someone. For six months I was heavily medicated and talked to someone every day.”

“Jane…”

“I’m fine, Lisbon. Not cracking up. It was just a nightmare.”

“If they stop you from sleeping, they’re more than ‘just’ nightmares.”

“This was a bad idea,” he said after a moment.

“What?”

“This… plan. It’s bad for so many reasons, but at the most basic it means me keeping you awake when you should be allowed to sleep. I’m never going to be able to sleep through the night, and if I wake you every time…”

“Nah, it’s not so bad.” His head turned toward her, and even though she couldn’t see his expression she knew it was one of disbelief. “Don’t forget, I get to spend all day at CBI tomorrow where there will be not one, but two excellent couches at my disposal.”

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and the sound warmed her.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’m with you, partner. We’ll get through this,” she said. 

He reached over and picked up the hand that lay on his shoulder. “I believe you.” He kissed it, much as he had at dinner earlier, and then cradled it against his chest where she could feel the steady beat of his heart. “I’ll try to sleep,” he promised, but he didn’t release her hand, and she closed the slight distance between them until she was pressed against his shoulder so she could leave it there while she slept.

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice a little higher than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm ahead of schedule and figured I might as well post this since it was ready to go. Why make you guys wait, right?


	3. Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Jane and Lisbon to truly act as a newly married couple. Will they make it through this particular performance without destroying their friendship?

Her alarm went off at 8AM, and she was, once again, alone in bed. Feeling like her head was wrapped in cotton, she scrambled to silence the alarm, then sat up and rubbed her face. She checked her phone to find a text from Van Pelt who had relieved Cho, alerting her that the signal was live once more. She wondered if Jane knew, and almost went looking for him, when the sounds of cooking echoed up the stairs. She decided to take the opportunity for a hot shower instead.

In some ways, she felt that Jane had done her a favor: she was too tired to feel especially anxious about undressing when she knew the killer could be watching. Still, she hesitated for a moment, watching the steam build up as the shower grew hot. Then, deliberately, she pulled her t-shirt off in one motion, dropped it on the floor and immediately removed her sweats and underwear in similar fashion.

The heat helped clear away the cobwebs in her brain, and she stayed under the spray for longer than she normally would, forcing away all thoughts of voyeurs.

By the time she was dressed and ready for work, she felt halfway human again.

She found Jane (impeccably dressed as always and looking none the worse for a sleepless night, damn him!) in the kitchen, sitting at the island with a newspaper, a cup of tea, and an empty plate in front of him. He looked up when she came in and smiled dazzlingly.

“Morning,” he said brightly. She returned the smile, though she was sure with much less wattage, and kissed him before sliding onto the empty stool. He put down his paper and got up immediately, moving to pour her a cup of coffee from the bubbling pot while she pulled out her phone and texted Van Pelt.

[Still green?] she typed.

[Yes, boss. Went live just after 0700] the answer came back. Which meant the killer had watched Jane’s morning routine as well. At least he’s an equal opportunistic voyeur, she thought.

When she looked up from her phone, she found a plate of eggs on toast with a side of bacon as well as coffee with cream and sugar in front of her. She smiled gratefully at Jane, who resumed reading his paper while she ate enthusiastically. It was a good thing Jane was a good cook; if things were left to her they would be living off cereal and cold leftovers.

* * *

They arrived at CBI just after 9AM and sat down for their first of many briefings. It was a short one, given that it was only the first night, and no one had much to report. Schedules were handed around so everyone knew who had what shift, and assignments were given. Soon, Jane left for the dealership, and Lisbon escaped to her office.

Rigsby and Cho entered a short time later.

“Hey boss, you got a minute?” Cho asked. Lisbon, who had been sitting with her chin propped up on one hand while her glazed eyes stared at nothing, startled and straightened up.

“Uh, yeah, sure, what’s up?” she said, pulling herself together.

“You okay, boss?” Rigsby asked. “You look…” he trailed off when she glowered at him, “uh...well, you look…” he seemed to search for a safe way to finish the sentence, “normal?”

“Rough night?” Cho asked, even more deadpan than usual. She sensed he was laughing at her behind the blank expression.

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep,” she said.

“Oh really?” said Rigsby, trying to hide a smile. Lisbon glowered at him more fiercely, but her heart wasn’t really in it. Truth was, the fact that they were teasing her made everything feel normal somehow, like this was just another case where Jane was making her life miserable.

“Did you need something?” she growled. Rigsby grinned, obviously not put off in the slightest.

“We interviewed friends of the Martens,” Cho began, referring to one of the couples who were killed. “Everyone says the marriage was solid. No infidelity, no major fights. The words ‘true love’ and ‘soulmates’ came up more than once.”

“Seems to be the same story for all the couples,” Rigsby said.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Lisbon said, shaking her head. “There has to be something, some catalyst that set the killer off. It can’t be that everything was perfect and then he just decided to kill them. What are we missing?”

They were silent for a minute, thinking this through.

“Whatever it is,” Cho said, “it wasn’t something public.”

“That’s the problem,” Rigsby mused, “you never know what a couple is like behind closed doors. They could have had any number of secrets they didn’t want their friends and family to know about.”

Cho and Lisbon both looked at him.

“I’m just saying,” Rigsby said, looking uncomfortable.

* * *

When Jane returned to CBI in the evening, they had their second briefing. Nobody had come up with any significant leads while looking into the previous cases, thus far. However, the FBI was insisting on being particularly thorough, so it was slow going. Rigsby and Frenetti would take the first shift in the van a block away from the house watching the camera feeds, while two other agents would be in a car just outside, watching the street.

Before they left, it was confirmed that the signal was already live, and Jane and Lisbon prepared to arrive home in character.

The evening went much the same way the previous one had: Jane cooked dinner which they ate in the dining room, conversing about their day. Jane had had a wildly successful day selling luxury cars, though Lisbon could tell it had bored him tremendously, and Lisbon regaled him with the story of the time Cho had cracked a suspect by staring silently at him in the interrogation room for 20 minutes straight.

After cleaning up, they cuddled together on the living room couch and watched nature videos, Lisbon fit snugly against Jane, her head on his shoulder. They talked occasionally about nothing in particular, and then after a little while, Lisbon felt herself gently shaken awake, and they went up to bed. She fell asleep again while Jane was still in the bathroom, and he was careful not to wake her when he crawled in next to her.

* * *

Lisbon woke with a jolt. She was so disoriented she couldn’t remember where she was for a moment. She was laying half on top of someone and startled away before she could recognize Jane’s figure.

“Shhh, Lisbon, it’s just me,” he whispered, pulling her back down where her head had been pillowed on his shoulder, her chest flush against his torso. It felt so wonderfully right the way they fit together, his heat enveloping her as he hugged her to him.

“What time is it?” she whispered.

“Almost 5. Signal went off around 1.”

“Get any sleep?”

“I dozed for a while, sorry I woke you.”

“Did you?” she asked, trying to recall what it was, exactly, that had brought her out of sleep.

“I think so. Not so violently this time, but I think enough to startle you. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she yawned. “Was it another nightmare?” She felt him nod. “Talk?”

“No, just… lay here with me. This is nice.”

She settled a little more firmly against him and felt him press the softest of kisses to the top of her head.

* * *

Her alarm sounded and she shut it off. Jane was gone. Trying not to be bothered about it, she went about her morning routine. The signal was still dark when she went in to shower, but it was live again by the time she and Jane were both in the kitchen having breakfast. 

Interesting. Perhaps the killer preferred to watch them together? Lisbon swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. If that was the case, he was certainly going to be happy later tonight. The adjustment period was over; tonight they were expected to act like newlyweds in love act. She set down the piece of bacon she had been chewing.

Jane looked up at her, read the look on her face instantly, and reached out to hold her hand.

“How about we go out tonight? That Italian place you love?” he asked. Technically, they didn’t have a night out scheduled until next week (everything they did was scheduled down to the letter) but she knew he thought it would help distract her. He was right, of course; she was already nervous and she couldn’t imagine trying to sit through a whole evening under surveillance while she counted down the minutes in her head.

She smiled, “I would love that.” He squeezed her hand once, then let it go, and she resumed eating. If the FBI was pissed at them for breaking the Sacred Schedule they could bite her.

* * *

Turns out the FBI was fine with the change in plans. In fact, everyone was being particularly courteous and accommodating. They were also all not-quite meeting her eyes. Even Rigsby and Van Pelt were being a little weird. Thank God for Cho. He remained as Cho-like as ever.

The inability to leave the office left Lisbon with a lot of downtime, unfortunately, and she found herself brooding. The more she thought about it though, the more she realized it wasn’t the performance she was worried about so much as who was watching. She knew the killer would be watching, that was out of her hands, but for the other person, at least there she had some control. The next time she caught Cho’s eye she waved him into the office.

“Need something boss?” he asked, poking his head in.

“Close the door behind you,” she said. He did so. “Who’s watching us tonight?” she asked.

“First shift: Torren and I are in the van, Spatz and -”

“No,” she cut him off, “I mean… who will be watching _us?_ ”

“I will.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“You want me to assign someone else?” Cho asked after a moment.

“No! Absolutely not! I… I don’t want anyone… that is-”

“No one outside the team will ever…” Cho waved a hand rather than finish his sentence. “I made sure of that. It will only ever be myself, Van Pelt, or Rigsby, I promise.” Pure relief washed over her, and her gratitude to Cho for already having thought ahead and taken care of it was like a spreading warmth in her stomach.

“Thank you,” she said. Cho nodded once and stood to leave, pausing at the door.

“We’ve got your back, boss. Jane’s too.”

“I know you do.”

* * *

The evening briefing was short again, and soon she and Jane were on their way home so Lisbon could change for dinner. It felt incredibly unfair that Jane was perfectly acceptable in the suit he had worn to work, while she was forced to squeeze herself into a dress and heels, but she was (sadly) used to the double standard.

When she reappeared downstairs, Jane looked her up and down appreciatively, and she felt herself flush. She stepped forward quickly to cover her awkwardness, reaching for him, and he opened his arms to embrace her, inclining his head to meet her lips. Kissing him seemed so natural now; she could hardly remember that it had ever been a source of anxiety. They took their time, exploring with lips and tongue.

Jane broke away first.

“We should go, we’ll lose our reservation.”

Lisbon nodded and they went.

* * *

“You’re feeling better,” Jane remarked, though his eyes were on the road. “Less anxious.”

“Much less,” she agreed. “Cho assured me that the only eyes on us tonight will be the killer’s and his own.”

“Is that what had you panicking this morning?”

“Mostly. I won’t say I’m not nervous, but I trust you. We’ll be okay.”

He reached for her and they clasped hands briefly, just a quick reassurance. For a moment, Lisbon let herself wonder if them _actually_ having sex would be more or less awkward than _pretending_ to have sex. She didn’t have an answer. Either in front of an audience was just downright weird, that was for sure. But it was her and Jane, and their relationship had always been… unique.

They were both a little quiet at dinner, but the romantic atmosphere helped because when conversation flagged they could just stare into each other’s eyes like all the other lovesick couples around them. Although, Lisbon doubted the other couples were trying to make each other break into laughter, which is what she and Jane were doing. She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he made his eyes dance until they were both smiling so widely she thought their faces would split. She hadn’t realized how normal it was for them to communicate through facial expressions alone, and she recalled something she’d overheard once about how ‘they could be in the middle of a full on conversation and then just stop speaking mid-sentence, and finish the rest in total silence - and god forbid you want to be let in on the joke’. At the time, she thought the person had been referring to the whole team - it was true that they have a certain short-hand with each other that is sometimes difficult for outsiders to interpret - but now she wondered if they had been talking specifically about her and Jane.

The drive home was silent. Jane agreed to let Lisbon drive, and she was glad to be able to concentrate on the road instead of the butterflies in her stomach. She glanced at Jane a few times, but he was staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts.

They sat in the driveway for a moment, listening to the engine ping as it cooled, and still, Jane wouldn’t turn. Out of habit, she checked her phone: the signal was still live and Lisbon felt like a performer about to step out from the curtain into the bright spotlight.

“We can end this at any time,” Lisbon said into the darkness. Jane shifted in his seat, turning toward her at last. _It’s just because this is the first time_ , she thought, _it’ll get easier, we just have to get through tonight._

“I know,” Jane replied, and she honestly wasn’t sure whether he was answering her spoken words or her unspoken thought.

They held hands as they went inside. Jane slipped her jacket off her shoulders and hung it in the coat closet. She was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her hand reaching for his, and when he grabbed it, instead of starting up, he pulled her to him. Surprised, she half-fell against his chest, and he drew her lips to meet his. He kissed her with an intensity she hadn’t felt before. Almost of their own volition her hands began to push his jacket off his shoulders. He took a half-step back, slipping it the rest of the way off and letting it drop.

He kissed her again - then, with a playful look said, “Race you,” and started up the stairs.

“Hey!” she said, laughing as she scrambled to keep up. “No fair! I’m in heels!”

As soon as she entered the bedroom he grabbed her, swung her around and threw them both onto the bed, bouncing slightly with the impact. They laughed, tangled together, and kissed again.

Jane got up off the bed, smiling at her as he unbuttoned first his vest, then his shirt, and stripped off both revealing a golden expanse of well-toned chest with a dusting of blond hair, and the slight softness around the belly of a man in his forties. He looked down as he toed off his shoes and socks, and when he looked back up he raised his eyebrows at her and she suddenly realized she was just sitting there watching, when she should be doing some undressing of her own.

She scrambled off the bed, removing her shoes one at a time on her way to the closet. She’d given a lot of thought as to what to wear. She didn’t want it to look like she was trying to deliberately cover up, but she also didn’t want to go naked. She pulled her dress over her head, left her underwear on, but removed her bra. Then she slipped into a black silk nightie edged with lace. It didn’t leave much to the imagination, but she was technically covered. She released her hair from its bun, and let it fall free around her shoulders. With one last deep breath, she stepped out of the closet.

Jane was already in bed, and had pulled back the covers for her. His bedside lamp was the only one on, illuminating his outline from behind, but leaving his face in semi-darkness. She might have imagined it, but for a split second when he saw her she thought he looked terrified. He relaxed into a warm smile immediately, and she slipped into bed, eagerly searching for the safety of the covers. Jane switched off the light behind him, and moved over her, elbows resting on either side of her narrow shoulders. Her breasts brushed against his chest as they breathed against each other. He touched the side of her face with his fingertips, tracing the line of her jaw, his thumb running over her lips.

He was practically vibrating, and she could feel his heart racing, but the kiss this time was less intense, deliberately slower and deeper, almost meditative. She let him set the pace, realizing he was trying to slow things down, regain control. There was a throbbing between her legs she was desperate to ignore, and so she focused on following his lead. If he ran his hands through her hair, she did the same to him. He kissed her neck - she nuzzled his jaw, rubbing against the slight stubble.

At last, he shifted to climb fully between her legs which she opened for him. She could feel the slide of his boxers against her thighs as she closed them around him, but instead of bringing his hips flush against her, he froze, holding himself away from her. He’d let his head drop so his right cheek was pressed against her left, his breathing loud in her ear. She expected him to move, finish settling himself between her thighs, but he was still as a statue, every muscle tense and unyielding as iron.

She was about to ask what was wrong, when it hit her that she knew exactly what was wrong.

“Patrick,” she whispered in his ear, and he shuddered. “Jane,” she tried again, and this time he seemed to relax just a fraction. “It’s all right to enjoy it. It’s perfectly natural for your body to react. If you’re hesitating for my sake, don’t. I’m fine. But I also understand if you want to stop. Do you want to stop?”

He shook his head minutely. She ran her hands down his torso, gently grabbed his hips and pulled while at the same time she raised to meet him.

Two flimsy bits of cloth between them did nothing to disguise how hard he was for her. She rolled her hips, feeling that hardness rub against her own aching sex. He moaned, a brief, strangled sound, cut short as he froze again as if angry with himself for allowing it to pass his lips.

She put her hands on the sides of his face and raised his head, forcing him to look at her, but his eyes were screwed shut.

“Hey,” she whispered. When he didn’t respond, she kissed his forehead, then the corner of his mouth. “You with me? Partner?” He opened his eyes, and for a second all of his walls were down and she could read everything he was feeling just as surely as if she were psychic. But it wasn’t that she was psychic, or even that she had picked up something of Jane’s talent, it was just that she knew him so well, and without his defenses he was an open book to her. He recovered almost immediately and she watched the walls go up, watched him slip away behind them again.

And then he moved against her and she stifled a cry. He kissed her as he set a steady rhythm. The friction of his erection against her was almost unbearable, just enough to light her up, but not nearly enough to build on. She squeezed him with her legs, forcing him closer, rolling her hips to meet him every time. His breathing grew ragged and he picked up the pace a little. She could see when he was nearing his breaking point, and knew they needed to end this before things went too far.

So when next he thrust against her, she grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails in, locked her legs to hold him in place and threw her head back, moaning and thrashing. Sadly, it wasn’t the first orgasm she had ever faked, and for once she felt confident that in this, her acting skills were at least as good as his. He continued to move against her, faster and faster, and then he stilled, muscles twitching and convulsing convincingly, even though he was still just as hard and throbbing against her, with no sign of the wetness that would signal his release.

He ‘collapsed’ against her, though, in truth, he was still holding the majority of his own weight back, so that they were only lightly pressed together.

He kissed her again, lazily, and then he rolled away, lying on his back but pulling her so she was nestled against his chest the same as they had been last night. They panted together, trying to regain their breath. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his chest, and when she raised her head she saw a drip of it trail down his neck.

_I made Patrick Jane sweat_ , she thought and she would be lying if she didn’t say she felt smug about it.

After a while, she got up and went into the bathroom to ‘clean up’. Her slip fell back into place when she stood up, covering the fact that she still had her underwear on. When they had first talked about this she had asked how he would get away with crawling into bed in his boxers. Wouldn’t the killer think that was odd? But Jane had waved away her concerns saying, “It’s theatre, Lisbon. No one is counting the number of buttons on the hero’s waistcoat. There are other, far more interesting things to look at.” She hoped he was right, or they had just done all of this for nothing.

She brought a washcloth with her back to bed, and Jane pretended to clean himself up. She happened to catch a glimpse in the moonlight as he lifted the sheet, and saw that he was still hard, tenting the front of his boxers.

Her own sex was throbbing in time with her heartbeat - unsatisfied, labia engorged with blood, clit screaming to be touched - so she could well sympathize.

When they had settled back down together, she closed her eyes, knowing it would be a while before she could fall asleep. She was too keyed up still, and her brain felt like it was in overdrive. Thoughts and feelings flowed so quickly she could barely hear her own inner voice in the maelstrom. She knew her mind was trying to analyze everything that had just happened, but there was just so much, she didn’t know where to begin. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Jane whose mind worked so much faster and took in so much more information. Was he currently cataloguing every expression that had passed over her face? Or analyzing the sounds she made, or the way she responded when he touched her? Or was he simply storing the memories in his memory palace, so that he could examine them more closely at a later time?

Maybe he wasn’t thinking about her (or what they had just done) at all. Maybe he was reciting the complete works of Shakespeare in chronological order.

_Why do I care?_ she thought angrily. This wasn’t a night of passion between friends; it was a necessary part of a sting operation to catch a killer. That was where her focus should be.

But she did care, that was the problem. And it was exactly why she should never have agreed to this in the first place. There was something inside her, a feeling that she had known was there for some time, but that she had never let herself examine too closely. She didn’t dare name it, there would be no point.

The CBI might be Jane’s home, and the team might be his family, but Red John was his purpose. Red John was what drove him, and revenge was the only road Jane could see right now.

Frankly, she was surprised he had agreed to this op, knowing it might mean up to 3 months away from his pursuit of Red John. Although, knowing him, she was sure he was finding ways to investigate while working at the dealership. Charming entitled rich assholes into buying overpriced cars didn’t exactly require much of his brain power.

Their phones buzzed almost in unison, and they both tensed, waiting. Nothing else happened. After a few minutes Jane moved to reach for his phone, and Lisbon rolled off and away from him.

“Signal’s dead,” he confirmed. Lisbon grunted an acknowledgment as she punched her pillow into a more desirable shape and settled down with her back to him. She could feel him watching her, but she shut her eyes and ignored it. She kept them shut when she felt him leave the bed, listened to his footsteps pass into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and her eyes popped open as if that was her cue. She rolled onto her back as he turned on the shower. She lay, listening to the running water, trying not to think about what he was doing. She wasn’t thinking about the soap sliding over his skin, or about him leaning with one hand braced against the wall while the other… She longed to touch herself too, but didn’t dare. If she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and he would know. When he came back to bed, somehow he would know.

There was that double standard again. He had to know she knew exactly what he was doing in the shower, so what did it matter if she did the same? 

It mattered to her. It mattered because of that unnamed feeling.

For him, it was just a matter of physiology. Not that he didn’t care about her, it was obvious he did, and equally obvious that he found her attractive, that she affected him. But ultimately, he didn’t have the same depth of feeling. There was nothing else to read in his act of self-love than a simple release of tension, but she couldn’t risk him reading more in hers. It made her too vulnerable.

He wasn’t the only one with walls.

* * *

Jane stepped gratefully into the shower, letting the hot water drum into his tense muscles. He put his head under the spray, willing it to sweep away the thorny mess of thoughts and emotions there. But they refused to be swept, choosing instead to roll around his mind growing thornier and messier until he thought he would go mad. It was too much.

Memory, usually a useful tool, was also sometimes his greatest weakness. For most people, memory faded with time, even the worst ones softened at the edges eventually. His memories were always sharp, and they cut him deep.

He was already storing every second of tonight in perfect detail, whether he wanted to or not. And he didn’t want to. The image of Lisbon’s face, patient and understanding, the feel of her beneath him, moving with him, the involuntary sounds she made... The moments of real pleasure glimpsed amidst the playacting, those would haunt him the most. What he wouldn’t give to see more - to test the boundaries, to see what she looked like if he were to really put the effort in, to unleash all his tricks and make her scream for him.

She’d made a pretty convincing fake orgasm, but he’d still seen right through it, and the very fact that she was so good at faking made him sad and angry. She should never have to fake it, she deserved pleasure. He could give her that pleasure, he knew he could…

No! He hit the wall with his closed fist, then leaned against it, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.

This was supposed to be pretend.

The unnamed feeling had to remain unnamed.

He couldn’t give her all of himself because he wasn’t whole. A part of him still belonged to Red John, to his past. Lisbon deserved better. He cared too much not to want more for her.

He should call this whole thing off. If he were a better man, he would march into Hightower’s office tomorrow and tell her the op was finished, that he couldn’t continue. But he already knew he wouldn’t.

One taste - hardly even a taste - of what could be between them, and he was already addicted.

He thought about what it would be like to have her to himself with no one watching. He began to stroke himself thinking of what he would like to do, how he would explore her body, find all those places that made her moan. He wanted to taste her for real, let his tongue lap at her sweetness while she writhed beneath him.

He would draw it out until she was begging with need, and only then would he drive into her, feeling her envelop him in her warmth, like coming home. He would move slowly at first, teasingly long strokes that would drive them both mad, desperate for more. And then faster until he was fucking her hard, making her cry out with every thrust before finally pushing her over the brink, feeling her squeeze him as her walls contracted so tight it almost hurt - dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain…

He came with a choked gasp - a suppressed cry that might have been her name if he’d let it. He continued to stroke himself slowly as he came down from the high, his body shivering in the aftermath.

He stayed under the warm spray for some time after that, and if the wetness on his cheeks were tears, he could tell himself they were only water.


	4. Fist Fight

Lisbon must have fallen asleep while Jane was still in the shower because when she woke up alone the next morning, she had no recollection of him coming back to bed. She turned off her alarm, yawned, stretched and checked her phone. The signal was still dead. Just like yesterday, it remained off until about 10 minutes before she joined Jane in the kitchen. The killer was learning their routines, but she found it interesting that he seemed less and less inclined to watch them individually. She had expected him to want to watch her shower, that he would gain some pleasure out of that kind of voyeurism. He’d certainly watched them last night, and had likely gotten something he needed from it, but, again, that had been about watching the two of them.

She kissed Jane ‘good morning’ same as the previous two mornings, and he took her breakfast out of the oven where it was kept warm and waiting for her, and poured her some coffee. Everything was normal between them, as if nothing about last night had been different, and she was relieved to find that whatever her feelings had been last night, this morning found her more settled - grounded. She was okay. She studied Jane’s face as he read his paper, trying to decide if he felt the same.

He felt her eyes on him and looked up.

“What?” he asked with a soft smile. She returned the smile.

“Nothing,” she said. They gazed at each other, a sense of peace settling over her. “Love you,” she said. She regretted it the moment the words were out, but Jane just smiled wider.

“Love you too,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

She hoped she hadn’t crossed a boundary.

* * *

She had been dreading this particular briefing, but it was better than she expected. Everyone was professional (including Jane, which was a pleasant surprise), and they got through it without any awkwardness. It wasn’t like they had to go into detail or anything, so the only ones who knew exactly what happened last night were her, Jane, and Cho. And the killer, presumably.

She brought up her thoughts on the killer from earlier, and the team agreed. With the weekend coming up, they were already planning more things she and Jane could do together while in the house. Simple, domestic activities, nothing exciting, but a test to see how invested the killer was in watching them together.

And, of course, they were already planning their next night out.

The time commitment was finally starting to dawn on her. She realized that a part of her had thought they would do this for a week or two and then, boom, killer comes to abduct them, they arrest him, job done. But now, as she looked at the schedule getting longer and longer and farther and farther out, she finally understood the scope of what they were doing.

Just before Jane was about to leave for the day, she pulled him into her office to talk a moment.

“Hey,” she said once they were alone.

“Hey,” he said back.

“We’re okay, right?” she asked.

“We’re okay,” he agreed.

“Honestly?”

He sat on her couch with a sigh.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he admitted. She leaned against the front of her desk.

“Talk to me.”

“Last night was… intense.”

“For me too,” she said. He searched her face, those sharp eyes missing nothing.

“But you’re fine with it. Last night you weren’t so sure, but you were this morning. What changed?”

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I guess when I saw you this morning… you were still _you_. The same pain in my ass, egomaniac you always are.” He laughed.

“You’re still you, too,” he said. “Looks like our friendship is stronger than either of us realized.”

“Looks like.” He stood up to leave, but she held him back. “One more thing,” she paused, unsure if she should continue.

“Say it,” he encouraged her.

“I’m sorry about earlier, the whole ‘love you’ thing. I didn’t mean to step over the line.”

“You didn’t.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. Besides, it isn’t the first time you’ve said that to me.”

“It isn’t? When have I-?”

“Last New Year’s Eve. Office party. You were pretty wasted.”

“Oh my god,” she covered her face with her hand, “I knew it. I knew I did something embarrassing that night. I can’t remember anything after Rigsby challenged me to shots of bourbon.”

“Yeah,” Jane’s smile was blinding, “that was the same night Rigsby danced shirtless on his desk.”

“Did I do anything else?”

“Uh, you threw up on my shoes.”

“Was that before or after I told you I loved you?”

“Both. You were telling everyone that you loved them more than once for most of the night. You had already told me several times before you puked. I got in a cab with you, to make sure you got home, and then you told me one last time before we said ‘goodnight’.”

She covered her face again and groaned. Jane just laughed at her.

“Unbelievable,” he said, “you’re actually more embarrassed about that than what we did last night. Truly, Lisbon, you are a constant surprise to me.”

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Lisbon looked up to see Van Pelt through the window. She waved her in.

“Sorry boss, I just spoke with a woman named Raina Warner, friend to George and Robin Krewes-”

“The couple from 2 years ago?” Lisbon interjected. Van Pelt nodded.

“She says her and her husband used to go on double dates with them, and that a couple times they thought someone was following them. It was never more than a feeling, so they didn’t report it, but maybe it was our guy?”

“Go interview her and her husband in person, get whatever information you can. Take Rigsby with you.”

“Sure thing boss.” She nodded to Lisbon, smiled briefly at Jane, and left.

“I’d better get going,” said Jane. “Don’t want to be late for work.”

“Please, like they would care. I’m sure you have them all wrapped around your little finger what with the money you’re bringing in.”

“Well sure, but still… no reason to rock the boat too much. See you tonight.” He leaned down to kiss her goodbye, and she met his lips without thinking about it. When they parted, they both froze for a moment, realizing what they had just done. Lisbon looked around surreptitiously, wondering if anyone had seen, cursing the fact that all the blinds in her office were open to prying eyes. She didn’t see anyone looking their way, but that didn’t mean anything. Oh well, what was done, was done. If someone wanted to reprimand her for inappropriate behavior she could tell them where to stick it.

With one last apologetic smile, Jane left, and Lisbon got to work on her official report of last night. Wasn’t that going to be a blast to write…

* * *

They fell into a routine: breakfast, morning briefing, work, evening briefing, dinner, bed. Lisbon got used to falling asleep in Jane’s arms, and waking up alone. She never knew when exactly he would leave her - she suspected he only slept a handful of hours a night, but she decided not to ask.

The next time they pretended to have sex was easier, just as she had expected. It was still frustrating as hell, but they were both a little more in control, and no one froze up or let their emotions overwhelm them. Once again, he waited until the signal went dark, and then Jane got up to shower, leaving Lisbon to think about taking care of her own needs, but ultimately deciding not to.

Everything seemed perfectly fine, which is why Lisbon was thrown for a loop when Jane went berserk at CBI the next morning.

They had finished the briefing early, so Jane stuck around for a cup of tea in the kitchen area, while Lisbon headed to Hightower’s office for a meeting with her and Agent Manderley. They were just settling down when shouting from the bullpen brought them at a run.

Agent Spatz was on the ground, bleeding freely from his nose, and Rigsby had ahold of Jane who was struggling to escape, looking murderous. Lisbon had never seen Jane like that. Usually, whenever punches were being thrown he was the first one out the door, and the thought of him intentionally getting in a fight where he was the aggressor just did not fit with her world-view.

“What the hell is going on here?” Hightower demanded. Everyone turned to her at once. Jane wrenched free of Rigsby at last and took two steps away, smoothing his disheveled clothing. Someone helped Spatz stand, and gave him a cloth for his nose. “Jane!” Hightower said sharply. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s my fault, ma’am,” Spatz said thickly, stepping forward cautiously, his head tilted back slightly to slow the flow of blood. “I didn’t see Mr. Jane-” he began, and Jane made a move to attack him again. Rigsby intervened, and Spatz jumped back out of reach. “Sorry! Sorry!” he said hastily. “What I meant to say was: I made some inappropriate comments, that I should not have said regardless of who might have overheard them. I sincerely apologize to Mr. Jane and…” his eyes flicked to Lisbon guiltily, “to Agent Lisbon as well.”

“My office, Agent Spatz,” Hightower said quietly, “now.” She turned to go, pausing only to say “Jane, don’t go anywhere, I want to speak to you and Lisbon next.”

Spatz followed, giving Jane a wide berth as he did. Everyone began to get back to work, murmuring to each other. Rigsby hovered over Jane as if he thought he might need to restrain him again.

“I’m fine, Rigsby,” Jane said, waving him off. Rigsby looked at Lisbon and she nodded, letting him know she had this.

Jane wandered back into the kitchen and was picking up the electric kettle from the floor when she followed him there. He poured hot water into his teacup and she noticed that his hands were shaking. He tried to open the tea bag wrapper, but couldn’t, so she took it out of his hands and did it for him. She pulled out the tea bag and set it in the hot water to steep. He watched her movements, but wouldn’t meet her eyes until she took one of his shaking hands in hers.

When at last he looked at her, she could still see the anger bubbling under the surface. Whatever Spatz had said must have been bad.

Her fingers tightened around his, and he winced.

“That hurts,” he said.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you go around punching people.” She turned his hand over to look at his knuckles. She ran a gentle thumb over them. “You should ice it so you don’t swell.”

They held each other’s gaze.

“Boss?” Rigsby said as he came around the corner. His eyes flicked from Jane, who was still looking at Lisbon, to their clasped hands, but whatever he thought about what he had walked into, he kept to himself. “Hightower wants us in her office now.”

“‘Us’?” Lisbon repeated, dropping Jane’s hand, “You too?”

Rigsby shrugged. “That’s what she said.”

Hightower was alone in her office when the three of them entered and shut the door.

“First, I want to say that I am appalled by your behavior, Jane,” she said.

“My behav-” Jane began.

“I understand why you attacked Agent Spatz,” Hightower continued, cutting him off. “That doesn’t make it right. It was unprofessional, to say the least, and not something I will tolerate in the future. Understood?” She waited for him to speak. Jane crossed his arms stubbornly, and Lisbon held her breath.

“I won’t apologize for hitting him,” Jane said, “he deserved it.”

“I’m not asking for an apology, I’m asking you to promise it won’t happen again. If you have a problem with a co-worker, you don’t go around punching them, you come to me or Agent Manderley, and you let us handle it. Do you understand?”

“I promise not to punch my co-workers in the office,” he said with an unpleasant smile. Hightower frowned.

“I suppose that’s as good as I’m going to get,” she muttered.

“Sorry, but does someone want to fill me in on what happened, exactly?” Lisbon interjected.

“Yeah,” Rigsby spoke up, “I’d like to know that too. Also, why am I in this meeting?”

“Agent Rigsby,” Hightower said, turning to him, “I understand you were on the first shift watching the interior cameras last night while Agent Spatz was watching the exterior cameras, is that correct?”

Rigsby shot a quick sideways glance at Lisbon, and she thought his cheeks might have reddened a bit.

“That’s right.”

“It seems that Agent Spatz took it upon himself to keep an eye on your monitors as well as his own last night.” Lisbon felt her stomach drop. She’d suspected this was the cause of all the ruckus, but hearing it confirmed made her nauseous. “He also,” Hightower continued, “apparently thought it appropriate to make certain comments to another co-worker about what he saw.”

“He did what?” Rigsby said, voice low. He took a half step forward, hands curling into fists, posture suddenly rigid with rage. “I’ll kill him,” he said flatly.

“I did not just hear that, Agent Rigsby!” Hightower said sharply. “Has everyone in this building lost their damn minds? We are the CBI, not thugs who go around beating on our fellow agents.”

“‘Fellow agents’?” Rigsby repeated. “You’re telling me Spatz still has a job?”

“Agent Spatz has been suspended for 3 months, without pay, and will be required to attend 5 sessions with a sexual harassment specialist.”

Lisbon was surprised. That was pretty harsh for a few comments. They couldn’t have been _that_ bad, could they? And then she realized the real issue: Spatz had been watching her and Jane and not the exterior cameras like he was supposed to. If the killer had chosen that moment… No wonder Hightower was taking this so seriously.

“Three months?” Rigsby sneered.

“If you’re not careful, Agent Rigsby, you’ll be joining him. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hightower dismissed him, and turned to look at Jane and Lisbon.

“Do I need to call this off?” she asked.

“No, boss,” said Lisbon.

“No,” said Jane.

“It has been brought to my attention that you were seen kissing in your office the other day.”

“We weren’t-” said Lisbon at the same time as Jane said “We didn’t-” but Hightower raised a hand, silencing them.

“Don’t make me call up the security footage.”

“We weren’t _kissing_ ,” Lisbon said firmly. “We kissed. We were saying goodbye, and we kissed. It was habit, not… We forgot where we were, that’s all.”

“Yes, that’s what worries me. It’s only been a week, and you already can’t distinguish between reality and your cover. I understand that there is a certain amount of bleed-through when it comes to undercover work, especially work as intense as this, but I would have expected this sort of thing after a few weeks to a month, not days. Are you too close to this? I need the truth.”

_Yes,_ thought Lisbon. “No,” she said aloud.

“Jane?” Hightower prompted.

“No,” he said with a nonchalant shake of his head.

“Very well. See that it stays that way. You’re both dismissed.”

* * *

Cho knocked on Lisbon’s office door later that afternoon, and she waved him in.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I want you to know we’re changing the set up in the van, moving the monitors so the feed from the interior cameras can only be seen by the person scheduled to watch them.”

“You heard about this morning?”

Cho nodded. Lisbon couldn’t say she was surprised; gossip this good was sure to travel fast.

“The guy’s lucky I wasn’t here. I would have done a lot worse than punch him in the nose.”

Lisbon knew she shouldn’t be encouraging this sort of thing, but she couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Wow, never knew I had so many people lining up to defend my honor.”

“You know it’s more than that. He had a job to do and he wasn’t doing it.”

“I know. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only one who wasn’t thinking that was Jane.”

“Wish I could have seen it,” Cho said, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was about to smile. “Never thought of Jane as the puncher, only ever seen him be the punchee.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda sorry I missed it myself,” she agreed.

“D’you know what the guy said to set him off?”

“What, the office grapevine doesn’t cover that part of the story?”

“There are a couple versions, thought maybe you’d know the real one,” Cho shrugged.

“Nope. No idea. I didn’t get a chance to ask Jane, and no one else is talking to _me_ about it, obviously.”

Cho grunted.

“Well, just so you know,” he said, “even if Spatz hadn’t left you and Jane vulnerable, I still would have punched him.”

“Thanks, Cho.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

* * *

“What did Spatz say?” she asked Jane later that night, after the signal had gone dark and they were lying in bed.

“It’s not important.”

“You got in a fist fight over it, I think that’s pretty important.”

“It wasn’t a fist fight, it was one punch. Rigsby was too quick; he pulled me off the guy before I could really hit my stride.”

“Jane.”

“He was telling someone about how he had ‘caught the show last night’. I didn’t know what he was talking about at first, until he said your name.”

“And?”

“He said, if that was what you looked like when you were faking, he’d like to take you for a spin himself and ride you till you squealed like a - and I didn’t hear the end of the sentence because that’s when I punched him.”

“Wow. What an asshole.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s your hand?”

“Eh, it’s fine. A little tender, but otherwise all right.”

“You still going to be able to swindle people with your magic tricks?”

“Lisbon. I have not ‘swindled’ anyone in a very long time. And even then, I rarely did it using magic tricks.”

“Oh please, you swindle people constantly!”

“Do not!”

“What do you call what you did to Frenetti last month?”

“That was not swindling. That was teaching.”

“Teaching? What were you teaching him?”

“That you should never trust a man with a deck of cards and a basic understanding of human nature.”

“Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I picture a drunk Lisbon as super soft and a little goofy, which is why I came up with the New Year's Eve party thing.  
> Thanks for the response so far! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying it!


	5. Unscheduled Hanky Panky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is mention of past neglect/child abuse in this chapter, so just be aware.

Lisbon woke Saturday morning and something was different. She rolled over and bumped into flesh. Jane stirred, turning to face her.

“Morning,” he said, voice still rough with sleep. He hadn’t worn a shirt to bed last night, and the sunlight illuminated the dusting of blond across his chest, and the fine stubble along his jaw.

“Morning,” she said, a little uncertainly. She was used to waking up alone, and lying in bed with him when the sun was up was disorienting. Nighttime was different. Things never felt quite real in moon- and starlight, but sunlight was very real - there was no hiding in sunlight.

She felt naked in just a tank top with no bra and her lounge pants, and she resisted the urge to pull the covers up to her chin. If the signal was dark, Jane would have said so, which meant they were being watched.

“I thought we’d sleep in a little,” he said, and rolled onto his back. She fit herself against his torso in their favorite cuddling position, her left hand coming to rest on his chest, just above his heart, while she pillowed her head on his shoulder. His outstretched arm curled around her back, holding her to him. Emboldened, she slipped her left leg between his, so they were further twined together. His chest hitched and she felt him harden against her hip. 

For a moment, she considered moving away. She hadn’t meant to instigate anything. But then she realized she didn’t want to move away. If anything, she wanted to be closer. She wanted to feel the slide of flesh on flesh.

She raised up on one elbow so she could look into his face, and then she rocked against him, his thigh between her legs, his erection rubbing along her hip. His eyes widened with surprise and he gasped. This wasn’t part of the script.

“Teresa?” he whispered, unsure. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She was trying to think, desperately trying to remember who had first shift on the interior cameras today. Jane’s other hand slipped under the covers and traced the line of her torso until coming to rest lightly on her ass. After a pause, he pulled gently but firmly, and she rocked against him again.

Van Pelt. She was watching the feed this morning.

Lisbon reached beneath the covers and let her fingers run over the front of his straining erection. Jane’s eyes rolled back and then closed. She left her hand there, cupping him, but didn’t move.

“Patrick,” she breathed, and his eyes opened. His pupils were so dilated she could only see a thin ring of blue-green. “Yes?” she asked. He swallowed, then nodded.

“Yes.”

She slipped her hand under the waistband of his pants and into his boxers, before closing around him. His eyes rolled back again, closed briefly. She began to move her hand, gripping and sliding along his length. She had thought he felt big when he’d been pressed against her, but it had been difficult to really get a sense, but feeling him in her hand she was sure now. Not only was he thick, but it seemed to take an awfully long time to make the journey all the way down to the base and then back up to the crown.

His breathing sped up. She kept her eyes on his face, watching for reactions to her movements. He made a little gasping whine in the back of his throat when she swiped over the head, collecting the pre-cum there to help lubricate things.

She was rocking against his thigh, and then she felt his hand at her waistband, and she paused.

“Yes?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she answered. She lifted herself to give him access, and his hand reached in and found her wet folds. He stroked her clit and she gasped. He slid a finger into her, drew it out, and slid in two fingers. She clenched around them with a moan. She began to stroke him faster, tightening her grip, and he was thrusting up in time with her.

He moved his fingers in and out finding that spot inside her that made her breath hitch. His thumb moved against her clit, and she felt the orgasm building in delicious waves.

His other hand reached beneath the tank top to cup her breast, rolling one nipple between his fingers. She shuddered, pleasure spiking through her.

He crooked his fingers inside her against that spot, rubbing insistently, his thumb still moving against her clit, and suddenly the waves crested and crashed through her. She bucked against his hand, her muscles contracting and convulsing. He continued to rub her clit gently, easing her through the aftershocks until it became too much, the stimulation almost painful, and he pulled back. She let herself drop back onto his thigh, still twitching, gasping for breath.

Her hand had slowed on his cock, but it returned to what it was doing when she recovered, and she began to stroke him in earnest, eager to give him release.

She could tell he was close, and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear: “Come for me, Patrick.” His head slammed back into the pillow, eyes screwed shut. His body went rigid, and she felt his cock swell in her hand, and then the wetness of his release. She continued to stroke him through it, and he moaned long and low. His face relaxed, his eyes opening again and he looked at her, dazed. She wiped her hand on his pants - they were going to need washing anyway, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Feeling warm and satisfied, she lay back down, snuggled against his chest. There was a wet spot on his stomach, against her hip, but they would worry about that in a minute.

“That was… unexpected,” he said. She laughed, and felt the echoing rumble of laughter in his chest.

“Good unexpected, I hope,” she said. He was silent, and she felt her heart sink. “Jane?” she whispered, turning her head slightly.

“Yes, L- yes love,” he covered the almost slip, “very good.” She wanted to believe him, but his voice sounded… off.

She wasn’t sure what to do. They were still being watched, she couldn’t make him talk to her, certainly not in the full light of day.

Then, suddenly, he moved her off him gently, and rolled onto his side facing her. She caught his eye, trying to ask what he needed, and realized his eyes were wet with unshed tears. Understanding, she followed suit, rolling onto her other side, and sliding back until she felt him behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to his chest, and buried his face in the back of her neck.

He was quiet except for his ragged breath, but she could feel him crying against her in the way his diaphragm moved with every sob. She wished she could comfort him for real, but all she could do was run her hands over the arm that held her and murmur reassurances.

Finally spent, he loosened his hold on her, and she turned in his arms to face him. His eyes were red, and he looked exhausted, but otherwise there were no obvious signs of distress. She ran a hand through his hair, watching the curls spring as she released them, then slid fingers delicately along the shell of his ear. They continued their journey down his neck and he shivered as she brushed over the space just above his collarbone. She made a note to remember that spot.

She kept going, sliding down his chest, playing with the hair there. He sighed, and took her hand, halting it’s exploration.

“I need a shower,” he said, regretfully. She nodded.

He kissed her cheek, before climbing out of bed and heading for the bathroom. She lay back down and stretched. His scent was all around her, and she breathed deeply while listening to the shower running. She wanted to stay there forever. In that bed, nothing mattered. In that bed, she was Teresa and he was Patrick, and they were married. In that bed, she didn’t have to think about the consequences of what she had done.

But it couldn’t last.

She climbed out of bed, grabbed her phone, and went into the closet where she texted Van Pelt.

[Still live?]

[Yes. Went green at 0800.] Van Pelt replied.

She almost put her phone down when it buzzed again. She looked at it with a frown. Surely the signal hadn’t gone dark now?

[Boss? Everything all right?]

Oh, right. Van Pelt wanted to know about the unscheduled hanky panky. Lisbon wondered what she was thinking. What had it looked like? Had it looked more real than the previous times? Would the killer be able to tell the difference? Van Pelt hadn’t been working either of the other times, so she would have nothing to compare it to.

[Just a little improvisation] Lisbon typed back, [nothing to worry about.]

[Ok. Should I put it in my report? Or leave it out?]

Good question. Lisbon thought carefully before answering.

[I won’t be putting it in my report. What you do is up to you. If you want to report it, I won’t blame you.] She wasn’t expecting a reply, and had once again moved to set her phone down, when it buzzed. With some trepidation, she looked at it.

[I won’t be putting it in my report either. But I want to talk to you when I can. Can we do lunch on Monday? Out of the office?]

[Sure.]

Lisbon exited the closet carrying the laundry basket. She set about stripping the bed, dumping the sheets in with the rest of the laundry. By the time she had finished, Jane was coming out of the bathroom in nothing but a low-slung towel. She gazed at him appreciatively. She still hadn’t seen him completely naked. She knew he was big, but she was dying to see just how big.

He had stopped in the middle of the room, and she realized she was staring, not at his face, but at the towel around his hips. She raised her eyes to his, knowing she was going to catch hell for that. Sure enough, his smug grin reached ear to ear, and his eyes were dancing.

She cleared her throat, and walked past him into the bathroom.

“Any laundry you want washed goes in the basket,” she threw over her shoulder before closing the bathroom door behind her. She thought she heard him chuckle.

* * *

The rest of the morning was uneventful. They ate breakfast, then Lisbon went off to start the laundry, and Jane went into the garage to get some tools.

The plan was for them to spend as much time at the house on the weekends as possible, to see how long the signal stayed live. To that end, they had mapped out a number of things to do, including odd fixes and improvements here and there. Jane had been weirdly excited by this idea, and had made several suggestions himself.

Lisbon returned from the basement to find him bent over the dining room table, looking at plans for the kitchen. She came up behind him, put her arms around him and kissed the back of his neck before moving to his side to look at the plans.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think it’s ambitious for one man.”

“Meh,” he waved away her skepticism. “You’ll help, won’t you?”

“Sure. I’m good with a hammer.”

He eyed her sideways.

“Yes you are,” he said, and she flushed.

They worked together easily, and Lisbon found she was enjoying herself. She tried not to dwell on what had happened earlier. She knew they would need to talk about it, eventually, but for now - with the signal live - they couldn’t, so she might as well put it out of her head. She wondered if her timing hadn’t been an accident. Perhaps subconsciously she had done what she did this morning precisely because she knew they wouldn’t be able to talk about it.

She left him dismantling the cabinets to finish doing the laundry. As she was putting things away in the closet, something high on a shelf caught her eye. She turned the laundry basket upside down and stepped up on it to peer at the shelf. She found a small collection of junk food.

She pulled the plastic packages down, puzzled. Why was Jane keeping junk food in the closet?

As if summoned by her thoughts, Jane appeared in the doorway, opened his mouth to say something, noticed what she was holding and stopped.

“Jane, what is this?” she asked. She expected him to laugh and give some innocent explanation, but instead he just looked embarrassed. Jane didn’t do embarrassed. Before today, she would have sworn that the man had no shame.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, waving it away with a smile. She wasn’t fooled. “It’s nothing, Lisbon. I’m just addicted to junk-food. There, now you know my deep dark secret. Come on, I need you to hold something while I drill.”

“Jane?”

His shoulders slumped forward, and he stepped all the way into the closet.

“It’s just a habit I picked up when I was a kid,” he said quietly.

“Storing food in the closet is a habit you picked up as a kid?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Can you please just drop it?” he pleaded.

“I don’t-” she cut off at his look. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He took the packets of food out of her hands, put them back on the shelf, and turned to look at her. “While we’re here,” Jane said, “you want to talk about this morning?”

Lisbon’s mouth went dry.

“No,” she said. There was a measured pause.

“Okay.” Pause. “You want to come hold something while I-?”

“Yes.”

* * *

By evening, the kitchen was a mess, so they decided to order take-out. They ate on the couch in front of the TV, watching old episodes of Murder, She Wrote.

“I’m telling you, it’s the gardener,” Jane insisted.

“And I’m telling you, you’re wrong.”

“Well, if I’m wrong then it’s due to shoddy script writing. None of this has made any sense from an investigative standpoint.”

“You’re just mad because Jessica Fletcher makes a better amatuer detective than you would.”

“Now, that’s just slander.”

They crawled into bed just after 11PM, read for a while, then settled down to sleep. The signal had remained live all day. Lisbon had a hard time imagining that the killer had really watched them every second. Just because the feed was live, didn’t mean he was glued to the screen the whole time. Still, it seemed like a good sign. At least he found them interesting.

She lay awake, waiting for the text that would tell them the signal was dark - dreading it, knowing it would mean they could finally talk. She fell asleep waiting.

* * *

It was still dark when she woke. Everything was still, the kind of quiet that comes in the wee hours of the morning. She picked up her phone from the bedside table and it read 4:14AM. There was also a message from Rigsby sent just after midnight, letting her know the signal was dark. She already knew Jane was gone, she could feel the difference now when she woke up alone.

She crawled out of bed, pulled a hoodie on over her t-shirt, and crept downstairs in the dark.

She found him in the dining room this time. The moon was full and she had little trouble picking him out seated at the table with the whiskey bottle and not one, but two glasses.

“Just in case you woke and wanted to join me,” he said, gesturing to the empty glass. She nodded and sat down while he poured her some.

“So,” she said after a moment.

“So.”

“I guess we should talk.”

He sipped his drink.

“We don’t have to,” he said.

“Actually, I kinda think we do. We - I crossed a pretty big line this morning.”

“We both crossed that line, together, no need to put it all on yourself.”

“No, but I was the one who initiated it.”

“Only because I’m too much of a coward.”

She laughed at that, and then they fell silent for a while.

“I think it was necessary,” he said. “Something we both needed.”

“Then why did it make you cry?” Lisbon asked bitterly. Whether she wanted it to or not, that thought had been festering in her mind all day.

“No, oh no, Lisbon,” he reached across the table and took her hand, “that wasn’t… that had nothing to do with - with you. It was just…” he let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ve held back so much for so long… in that moment, with you, the physical release triggered an emotional one as well, that’s all.”

“So, it wasn’t because it made you feel like you were betraying your wife?”

“No, absolutely not,” he said without hesitation. “The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

Relief washed through her. She’d been so afraid she had done something for which he would never forgive her, and she didn’t think she could have lived with that.

“Can I ask why?” he said after another pause.

“Why I did it?” she clarified. He nodded. “I don’t know.”

“That’s it? You don’t know?”

“Well, aside from ‘I wanted to’ - no. It wasn’t like I had a master plan or anything.” He laughed.

“‘I wanted to’ is certainly a good reason, as reasons go.”

“It just felt… right. It felt like what Teresa would do.”

“Should I be concerned that you’re referring to yourself in the third person?”

“You know what I mean. ‘Teresa’ as in the character I play when the cameras are on.” There was a long, tense pause after that.

“Is that all it was?” he asked, voice so low she strained to hear, “an act for the camera?”

“That’s all it can be,” she said, and the misery in her voice was obvious even to her. He nodded again, and let go of her hand. A lump formed in her throat and her eyes pricked and stung. She hastily swallowed more whiskey. She wanted to take it back, to tell him she was wrong, that they could have and be more. But it was better this way.

She didn’t want him unless she could have all of him, and until Red John was out of the way, she would never be able to have all of him.

“Why are you hiding food in the closet?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Lisbon…”

“No, I know I should leave it alone. But… I also know it’s the sort of habit picked up by a child in an abusive home and… I know your childhood was unconventional, and your father was, well, not the best influence. But I’ve met some of the people you grew up with and they genuinely care about you. I have a hard time imagining that they would let you starve or neglect you. So why?”

“Yes, growing up the way I did was rather unconventional. Always traveling, never going to school… And yes, my father was a con man with a gambling problem who exploited me for money and taught me to swindle little old ladies before I was 10. But the circus is a family, whether you’re related by blood or not, and I was always surrounded by people who cared. I think I told you once that I spent some time with child protective services. That isn’t entirely accurate… I actually spent a year in foster care.”

“A year? Why?”

“My father and I got caught running a scam. The case was flimsy, or it might have been worse. As it was, he got a year in prison for misdemeanor fraud, and I spent a month in juvenile detention before going on to foster care.”

“Why foster care, didn’t you have someone who could take you in?”

“None that were deemed acceptable guardians by the state,” he said bitterly.

“And the foster home?” she asked. He was silent, and she knew all she needed to know.

“I ran away, once, but I didn’t get very far. I was clever and resourceful, but I was still only 12. Got caught stealing food and was sent back.”

“They didn’t feed you?”

“It wasn’t that… It was more that they used the restriction of food as punishment, and I always seemed to be in trouble.”

“Jane, that’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged.

“I got in the habit of keeping a secret stash, so even if I was banned from dinner, I had something. The habit stuck with me. It’s a comfort thing, I guess.”

“Is that why I’m always finding vending machine food in my couch?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

“Huh.” The silence stretched between them again. 

“I stole groceries sometimes,” she said suddenly. Jane waited for her to continue. “My dad was usually too drunk to remember to feed us, so meals were my responsibility. I made sure my brothers ate, even on nights when I was too tired to feed myself. But dad didn’t like leaving a teenage girl in charge of his finances, so I usually had to swipe what I could out of his wallet when he was passed out. Sometimes, when we needed groceries, he’d already spent all his paycheck, so I had to get creative. Never got caught though.”

“Well, well, Saint Teresa, a thief. Who would ever have guessed?”

“I told you, you don’t know everything about me.”

“Learning new things every day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so amazing! Thank you for all the lovely comments so far, it is really motivating. I might be able to get another chapter out later tonight. Enjoy!


	6. Double Date

The rest of the weekend passed without incident. The signal remained on all of Sunday, and they made great progress on the kitchen. Lisbon was actually sad that it was ending and she would have to go back to work the next day. Usually, she couldn’t wait to get back to work - the CBI was basically her whole life, after all - but spending time with Jane was fun.

However, nothing can halt the flow of time, and Monday morning rolled around just as it always did. The briefing was a little longer than usual since they were covering two days worth of reports, but it was otherwise uneventful. True to her word, Van Pelt had not included the unscheduled fooling around on Saturday morning, for which Lisbon was very grateful. She also cornered her at lunchtime, and insisted they go out.

Technically, Lisbon wasn’t supposed to leave the office during the day - they were trying to keep her and Jane’s movements as contained and predictable as possible - but Lisbon cleared it with Hightower, and they ended up at a cafe not far from CBI headquarters.

“So, are you and Jane- that is, is there something going on between you?” Van Pelt blurted out just barely after they sat down.

“Why do you ask?” Lisbon kept her voice carefully neutral.

“Come on, boss. I know what I saw the other morning.”

“And what would that be?” asked Lisbon, temper flaring. “We were doing our job. Just because it wasn’t sanctioned six ways from Sunday by the FBI doesn’t mean we did something wrong.”

“What? No, no, no,” Van Pelt said, waving her hands in front of her. “I didn’t mean- I wasn’t saying that at all. I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, I just… You’re the one who didn’t want me to put it in my report.”

“That is not what I said. I told you to do what you felt you had to. I would never order a member of my team to lie for me-”

“Boss,” Van Pelt cut her off, “I’m on your side.” Lisbon looked at her - really looked - and saw how hurt Van Pelt was.

“God I’m sorry, Grace, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I got so defensive.”

“It’s okay. You’re under a lot of pressure.”

Lisbon buried her face in her hands.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “How did everything get so complicated?”

“It’s Jane. He specializes in complicated,” Van Pelt pointed out. Lisbon raised her head.

“You have no idea.”

“So tell me. I mean, if you don’t want to, I won’t make you, but… I think you might feel better if you talked to someone about it. I promise not to breathe a word to anyone.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Well, let’s start with the fact that whatever-it-is has been going on for a lot longer than this operation.”

“How do you know that?”

“Please, it doesn’t take a mentalist to see the way you two are with each other. You and Jane you’re… I’m not sure there’s a name for it.”

Lisbon let out a snort of laughter.

“Well that’s a fine start. We defy definition. How am I supposed to figure anything out like this?”

“Start with the op. That’s when things changed, right?”

“Yeah. But even then, I can’t pinpoint exactly what it was - our first kiss? Our first 4AM heart-to-heart? The first time we pretended to have sex and it turned us both on so much we almost couldn’t get through it without losing control?”

Van Pelt choked on her water.

“Sorry,” said Lisbon, “you’re the one who asked.”

Van Pelt took another gulp of water, and calmly set her glass down.

“What about Saturday? I was watching, remember? That didn’t look like pretend. What happened?”

“Are you asking for details?”

“No,” Van Pelt blushed. “I just meant… something changed between you that morning. I could tell.”

“Really? Was it that noticeable?” Lisbon asked anxiously.

“Not to someone who doesn’t know you, I don’t think. But to me? Yeah.”

Lisbon shook her head.

“I don’t know. It just sort of… happened. In the last week, Jane and I, we’ve talked - really talked - more than we ever have. We made a promise to be honest with each other during this whole thing, and he’s actually kept that promise. I feel like I’m finally getting to see all of him.”

“Well, sure,” Van Pelt said with a smirk.

“I meant, emotionally. He opened up, let down his walls a little. And, it made me let down my walls, too. And the more he lets me in, the more I see how much pain he’s in. I mean, I knew but I didn’t really _know_ , you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted to give him something… good. I wanted to drive the pain away, if only for a little bit. I hadn’t planned it, but the opportunity presented itself and I took it.”

“And what about you?”

“Yeah, okay, selfishly I was horny and frustrated and wanted something good for me too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Van Pelt laughed. “I meant: how do you feel about all of this? About Jane?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t - _feel -_ about Jane. If I let myself feel… if I let myself put a name to it…” she shook her head rather than finish the thought.

“But why?”

“Because I want more than he can give me right now.”

Van Pelt reached out and rubbed her shoulder consolingly.

“Thank you, Grace. You were right: I did need to talk about it.”

“I’m always here, Teresa. I know you’re my boss, but you’re also my friend. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

* * *

Their first lead on the case came from an interview Van Pelt and Rigsby conducted with Mr. and Mrs. Warner, friends of the Krewes who had been killed 2 years ago in the house where Jane and Lisbon were living.

The Warners had gone on several double dates with the Krewes’, and had reported that sometimes they thought they were being followed.

To that end, the team planned to send Jane and Lisbon out on a ‘double date’ with Rigsby and Van Pelt, along with a team of agents to keep an eye out for someone following them. If they were lucky, it would draw the killer out. Lisbon wasn’t optimistic. Whoever he was, he was both patient and cautious - she doubted he would follow them the first time out. Still, dinner with Rigsby and Van Pelt was a welcome change to the routine.

Jane and Lisbon arrived at the restaurant to find them already seated and waiting for them. Lisbon was momentarily jealous at how effortlessly beautiful Grace looked in her fitted green dress and bronze high heels. She had always preferred more casual clothes, and had never really got the hang of fancy dresses and uncomfortable shoes.

“You look stunning,” Jane murmured in her ear as he helped her into her chair. She looked up at him and mouthed ‘thank you’.

For the most part, the evening wasn’t all that different from other meals they had shared. Rigsby and Van Pelt were playing versions of themselves with the only difference being that they were dating. Lisbon wondered if the fact that they had dated previously made this easier or harder for them, but they both seemed entirely at ease.

As for her and Jane, she found that the main difference between their interactions before and now was how much they touched each other. Jane would slide a hand across her shoulders and leave it there, rubbing little circles in the back of her neck. Or he would brush her hair behind her ear and smile at her like she was the only woman in the world. Often, he would lean into her to say something in her ear, and once just to kiss her cheek. As the evening wound to a close, he put his hand on her thigh, just below the hem of her short dress and ran his fingers along the delicate flesh there. Lisbon felt herself flush when she caught Rigsby following Jane’s hand with one eye. He noticed her looking and averted his gaze hurriedly, his cheeks going a little redder.

Van Pelt, who had caught the whole exchange, put her own hand on Rigsby’s thigh, making him shift slightly in his seat.

“Well,” Jane said, “I think we’d better be getting home. Don’t you, love?” He turned to her with sin-filled eyes that promised all manner of late-night activities. Lisbon nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

They said their goodbyes, and as Lisbon pulled away from hugging Van Pelt, she noticed the other woman smirking at her. Lisbon sent her a warning look, but Van Pelt just raised one eyebrow and smiled wider. Lisbon might not be able to read minds, but she read that look clear as day: Have Fun.

Lisbon drove home and didn’t say anything about the fact that Jane kept his hand on her knee the whole way there.

They had just barely closed the front door before Jane pushed her against it and kissed her. The fire that had been burning quietly in the back of her mind all night suddenly sparked and roared. She moved against him, feeling his hardness pressed against her stomach. They were both making little panting moans as they kissed feverishly, tongues sliding together deliciously warm and wet.

Still kissing, Jane pulled her away from the door, and began to walk them toward the stairs. He backed her against the railing, kissing down her neck. She ran a hand through his hair, cupping the back of his head, while her other hand snuck between them to rub him through the front of his pants. He groaned as he sucked the spot just above her pulse, making her legs feel like jelly. If he didn’t stop, she was never going to make it up the stairs.

He pulled back and a quick smile and raise of his eyebrows were all the warning she got before he scooped her up as if she weighed no more than a kitten.

“J-” she gasped, instinctively wrapping her legs around him, her arms grabbing his neck. “Patrick,” she breathed before their lips met once more. He began to climb the stairs, and she stopped kissing him long enough to reach the top safely. She was forced to admit to being rather impressed with his strength. Jane wasn’t exactly a young man.

He deposited her on the bed before shedding his jacket and vest, and beginning to unbutton his shirt. She jumped up and pushed his hands away. She wanted to do the undressing. She took her time, pressing kisses to the flesh she uncovered. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, running her hands down his arms and letting it drop. He kicked off his shoes, and pulled off his socks before taking her face in his hands and kissing her softly, his fingers combing through her hair. She unbuttoned his trousers and pulled down the zipper carefully, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He stepped out of the trousers and reached for the hem of her dress, his fingers teasing along her thighs before taking hold of the fabric and pulling the garment up and off in one move. She smoothed her hair back, very aware that this was the most naked she had been in front of him, standing there in nothing but her black lace bra and underwear.

She spared a brief thought to wonder if the killer and Cho were enjoying the show, momentarily dampening her spirits, and then Jane reached past her and threw back the covers on the bed and she sat on the edge. He knelt in front of her, opening her legs and kissing the inside of her thigh. She grabbed his head with both hands, tipping it back to kiss him, then pulled him up as she lay back, her legs still dangling over the edge. He moved up her body, nuzzling her stomach, kissing between her breasts. He reached behind her to unhook her bra, but paused, a question in his eyes. They had already discussed her going topless tonight - she knew she would have to eventually, she couldn’t keep wearing a full nightie everytime they had ‘sex’ - but he still hesitated, so Lisbon reached back and unhooked it herself. She slid the bra off and tossed it over the side of the bed.

Jane cupped one breast, running his thumb over the hard nipple, and leaned down to lick over the other before sucking gently. He alternated, massaging and kissing and sucking until her breath was ragged with need. At one point, he bit down - not hard enough to break the skin, but hard - and she made a high whine in the back of her throat. He looked up at her, amused, before doing the same to her other nipple.

Desperate to move this along, she scrambled the rest of the way onto the bed, swinging her legs around and under the covers. Jane settled beside her, rolled up on one elbow, somehow pulling the sheets with him so all the essential bits were covered. _That was very smooth_ , thought Lisbon - not that she expected anything less from Jane.

His fingers danced on the edge of her underwear, and again, there was a question in his eyes.

“Yes,” she breathed. He pulled them down and she lifted up to help, bringing her knees to her chest, the sheet momentarily becoming a tent, so he could slip them all the way off.

He pretended to take off his own underwear, and Lisbon sent him a Look. He just shook his head microscopically. She knew he was right: one of them needed to think rationally here. They absolutely could not (and should not) have full on sex right now, and if he was naked too, they would. But God she wished they could.

He slid between her legs which she wrapped around him and pressed himself against her wet heat. They both groaned at the contact, Jane squeezing his eyes shut. He deliberately took a few slow, deep breaths before he moved again.

His straining erection slid against her slick folds, her stomach muscles contracting as pleasure sparked through her. He moved slowly, the friction teasing her, her walls clenching around nothing as she longed for him to fill her.

“Patrick,” she begged.

A smug grin spread over his face and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. But then his hand was between them, sliding through her wetness and two fingers entered her. She stopped breathing for a second, then let it out in a ragged sigh. He moved his fingers in and out in time with the rocking of his hips, his thumb moving over her clit.

She pulled him into a kiss, fingers wound in his curls. She tugged experimentally, and he groaned and lost his rhythm. Just as she suspected. He looked at her, and this time she was the one with the smug grin. He pinched her nipple with his free hand, making her writhe beneath him, and cocked an eyebrow at her: two could play at that game.

He picked up the pace, his fingers moving in her with real purpose now. She could feel the orgasm building, wave after wave of pleasure moving through her. He sucked a spot on her neck until she worried it would leave a hickey, and she dug her fingernails into his back.

She was balanced right on the edge when he pulled out two fingers, and thrust back in with three. The extra digit stretched her just enough to send her over, the orgasm crashing into her violently. She felt herself contract around him, drawing his fingers deeper, her hips bucking against his hand. He continued to thrust them shallowly, drawing out her pleasure. Dimly, she was aware of him moving above her, pretending to find his own release, before collapsing beside her.

She lay, sprawled, uncaring that her breasts were bared. Jane was on his side, facing her, one hand on her stomach. She turned to face him, reaching a hand between them to find him still rock-hard and straining. She started to pull down his boxers, but he stopped her.

She frowned, and he kissed her forehead, smoothing the lines there. He was right of course (again), she couldn’t reciprocate with the camera live. She sighed, and turned so they could spoon, enjoying the way he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest.

His erection was pressed against her ass, and she rubbed against him, making him moan in her ear.

“Stop that,” he whispered. “We’re supposed to be cuddling.”

“You’re the one sticking the ramrod in my ass,” she hissed back. He snorted, then buried his face in her hair, trying to stifle his laughter.

They quieted down, and lay peacefully together for a while. Lisbon felt pleasantly like mush, and would have happily drifted off to sleep, but Jane - for all that he lay still - was still vibrating with tension. She knew he wanted release, no matter what he said, but she didn’t know how to give it to him until they were truly alone. So she waited. How much longer could the killer watch them anyway? Didn’t he sleep?

Just when she was starting to seriously consider a plausible reason for them both to go in the closet, their phones buzzed. They waited a few more minutes, just to be sure, then Jane picked up his phone and sighed with relief.

“Signal’s off,” he confirmed. She pounced on him before the words were out, straddling him and pining his wrists above his head.

“Good,” she said, looking down at him with a glint in her eyes.

“Lisbon,” he said softly. It made her pause. She wasn’t ‘Lisbon’ in this bed, not when they were naked and doing… this. She was ‘Teresa’ and he was ‘Patrick’. That’s how it worked. “We shouldn’t.” He sounded sincerely regretful, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Oh,” she said. She released his wrists and he propped himself up on his elbows.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just-”

“No,” she interrupted, “no, I get it. It’s only okay if we’re being watched, right? It’s only okay when it’s ‘pretend’.” The bitterness in her voice felt like acid in her throat.

“Lisbon-” he began. She climbed off him, walked straight into the closet and slammed the door behind her. She put her arms around herself. She was shivering. She was also naked. Reaching for the first thing she could find, she ended up pulling down one of Jane’s button down shirts. She just looked at it for a second before bursting into tears. She wadded the shirt against her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs.

She sat on the floor, drawing her knees to her chest, and cried into his shirt until her throat was raw and her eyes dry and gummy. After a while, she realized she could hear the shower running.

_Coward_ , she thought, but there was no real anger behind it. She was too tired to be angry. She forced herself to stand, dropped the crumpled shirt in the laundry basket, and pulled out her oldest, comfiest pajamas - the ones that were faded from many washings, and had started to look a little ragged at the seams. She dressed, exited the closet, and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over her head.

She didn’t wake till her alarm went off the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave you with a cliffhanger (I'm actually not sorry at all, I love torturing readers *cue evil laugh*)!  
> I'm traveling tomorrow, but I will try to post the next chapter before I leave.


	7. No Such Thing As Psychics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between Jane and Lisbon get worse before they get better.

Lisbon was in a bad way the next morning. She tried to be normal at breakfast, but even though she kissed him ‘good morning’ like always, it felt stiff - almost formal. She felt him sneaking looks at her over his paper, but she concentrated on eating.

The car ride to CBI was almost unbearable. She let Jane drive while she sat as far from him as possible in the tiny space. She opened her door the second he turned the car off but he called her back.

“Lisbon, wait.”

She sat back down and closed the door, her arms crossed over her chest.

“What?” she asked.

“I want to explain-”

“There’s nothing to explain. You were right. This is supposed to be pretend. We’re supposed to be acting like professionals. I should never have crossed that line in the first place. It won’t happen again.” She opened the door and stepped out before he could say anything else.

“Wait,” he called, getting out of the car and struggling to catch up. “Lisbon, please, will you just hear me out?”

“I told you there’s no need. We’re fine.”

“But-” he cut off as they were joined by other people waiting for the elevator. They rode up in silence. “We’re not fine,” he hissed in her ear the second the elevator doors opened and they stepped out. “You’re angry, and you have every right to be, but-”

“Oh thanks,” she whispered back furiously, “I’m so glad I have your permission to be angry.” They were in the bullpen now, just passing Van Pelt’s desk, headed toward Lisbon’s office.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said, voice a little louder now, an edge of anger creeping in. Lisbon whirled on him, her finger poking into his chest, forcing him to stop.

“No,” she said furiously, “I don’t know what you meant. I have absolutely no idea what is going on in that stupid thick skull of yours. You know why? BECAUSE I’M NOT PSYCHIC!” The bullpen went silent, but neither of them seemed to notice.

“Yeah?” Jane said, getting in her face, “Well NEITHER AM I. YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS AS PSYCHICS!”

“YEAH. I KNOW!”

“FINE!” Jane turned on his heel and headed to the kitchen.

“FINE!” Lisbon shouted at his retreating back. She looked around to see everyone staring at her. “WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT? DON’T YOU HAVE WORK TO DO?” With that, she swept into her office and slammed the door shut. She sat at her desk and buried her face in her hands. What the hell was she doing? Why was she having shouting matches with Jane in the middle of the bullpen? Had she completely lost it?

“Uh, boss?” Van Pelt said, peeking her head in the door.

“What is it, Van Pelt?”

“We have a, um, briefing?”

Lisbon looked up. Right. Briefing. Van Pelt slipped into the office and closed the door behind her.

“You want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.

“I can’t: briefing,” Lisbon said miserably.

“Okay… after?”

Lisbon shook her head, not saying ‘no’ but simply because she felt so lost.

* * *

No one brought up the shouting match at the briefing. Nor did anyone mention the fact that Jane and Lisbon - who had sat or stood next to each other for every previous briefing - were currently seated as far as possible from each other while still technically being in the same room.

Agent Manderley seemed pleased by the ‘double date’ and thought they should schedule another soon. Lisbon couldn’t see what he was so excited about - no one had followed them last night.

As the briefing was breaking up, Manderley asked Jane and Lisbon to go to Hightower’s office for a meeting. Jane looked like he was going to be stubborn and refuse, but in the end he went without comment.

Lisbon kept her head down - she couldn’t even look at Hightower, she was so disappointed in herself.

“Boss,” she began as soon as the door was closed, “I apologize for this morning. There is no excuse for how I acted. No matter how angry I was with Jane, I had no right to shout like that in the middle of the bullpen. It was extremely unprofessional on my part, and it will never happen again.”

“Right,” Jane said sarcastically, “and, of course, I’m the immature egomaniac and therefore expected to act unprofessionally.”

“Hey,” Lisbon raised her hands, “you said it, not me.”

Jane opened his mouth to say something else but Hightower cut him off.

“Alright, let’s all just take a breath. I understand that you both are under a lot of pressure and that emotions are bound to run high. I can accept a certain amount of shouting in my bullpen as long as it doesn’t affect your work. Is this going to affect your work?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Jane?”

“No.”

“Good. Working together in such… intimate proximity is going to cause friction in any relationship. I’m not going to ask what the issue is, I just want you to fix it and move on. Do you think you can do that?”

Lisbon thought about it. Could they fix this? She honestly didn’t know.

“Lisbon? Jane? Is there something you want to tell me?”

Lisbon looked at Jane but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I see,” said Hightower. “I’ll tell you what: I want both of you to take the day. Jane - call in sick to the dealership. Lisbon - get out of the office. When you get back for the evening briefing I want an answer from both of you about whether you can move forward with this op or not. Clear?”

“But boss, what about the killer? What if he’s watching us? Won’t this look suspicious?”

“It’s either this or we pull the plug right now. I’d rather risk it and hope you two can work whatever-it-is out.”

Jane disappeared the moment they were dismissed. Lisbon had no idea where he was going. She also had no idea where she was supposed to go. Get out of the office? And go where? She couldn’t go to her apartment - no matter what Hightower said, she didn’t think that would be a good idea.

She found herself at Van Pelt’s desk.

“Hey, boss.”

“Hey, what are you working on?”

“Uh, just updating Jane’s work computer to reflect the changes to the schedule.”

“Jane has a computer?” Lisbon was momentarily thrown by this. Jane hated computers.

“Yeah, not that he ever uses it. But we left it unsecured, thinking the killer might try to hack it.”

“And, has he?”

“Not yet, but I set up an alarm to let us know if he does”

“Oh.”

“Boss? Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lisbon said, “Hightower thinks I should get out of the office. If you’re not busy…”

“Of course! Let me just finish this, and we’ll go.”

They ended up at the same little cafe where they’d had lunch. It was small and bright enough to see if anyone was watching them, and loud enough to keep them from being overheard. Lisbon wasn’t hungry, but she ordered coffee and a muffin, just so she would have something to do with her hands.

“You going to tell me what happened after you got home last night?” Van Pelt asked. “Because when we said ‘bye’ at the restaurant, everything seemed great, and then this morning…?”

Lisbon sighed.

“I don’t know. I thought it was going well too. We got back, we…” she looked around, “you know. It was good. It was really good.”

“So you actually…?”

“No! I mean, not - no. It was pretend. It… it was supposed to be pretend.”

“You mean like the other morning was ‘pretend’?” Van Pelt quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Sort of,” Lisbon said guiltily. “We didn’t actually - you know.”

“But you wanted to,” said Van Pelt. It wasn’t a question.

“God, I swear, sometimes it’s like talking to Jane. How do you do that?”

“Please, that’s just good old-fashioned female intuition. That, and when it comes to Jane, you are totally transparent. And don’t forget, I saw you two… you know. I’ve faked enough orgasms in my life to know the real thing when I see it.”

“Shhhh!” Lisbon said, looking around. She felt her face go hot.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Teresa. Truth is, I was actually a little jealous.”

“You were?” Lisbon stared at her. “You mean, you and Jane…?”

“NO! No, not jealous like that! I just meant - it looked like fun. I haven’t been with anyone in a while, not since Wayne and I… so yeah, I was a little - not jealous - envious.”

“Huh.”

“So, last night…?” Van Pelt prompted.

“Last night we were… pretending, and then he -” Lisbon made a vague gesture.

“Like the other morning,” Van Pelt supplied.

“Yes.”

“And?” Van Pelt leaned forward conspiratorially.

“And it was fucking amazing, okay?” she whispered in a rush. “But, he didn’t… he faked it. Which was fine because I figured we’d just deal with it once the cameras were off, you know. But as soon as they were, I tried to - and he stopped me. He gave me the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life and then wouldn’t let me even try to return the favor!”

“Huh. Did he say why?”

“He said ‘we shouldn’t’. And then he started to say something else, but I cut him off and ran away.”

“I see. And this morning?”

“He was trying to talk to me and I wouldn’t listen and then… I don’t know, all of a sudden there I was in the middle of the bullpen yelling about psychics for some reason. I’m not even sure why I said what I said.”

“Yeah, well, best to leave that one to the psychiatrists.”

“Thanks,” Lisbon said dryly.

“The question is,” Van Pelt continued, “what do you do now?”

“I have no idea.”

“Sure you do. Come on, Teresa, what do you think you should do?”

“I guess I should hear him out. Give him a chance to explain.”

Van Pelt nodded encouragingly.

“But what could he possibly say that would make me feel any better?” Lisbon asked hopelessly.

“I don’t know. But neither will you, unless you let him say it. Look, I know you’re scared. You let yourself be vulnerable with him and you feel betrayed. But did it occur to you that he’s just as scared? Maybe even more?”

“I know Jane has issues. Nobody knows that better than me. And I get why he plays everything so close to the chest. With all that he’s lost… he’d rather push people away than risk getting hurt again. But I thought we’d made real progress. I thought he was starting to let me in.”

“Two steps forward, three steps back?”

“More like one step forward, five steps back.”

“Okay, but - and don’t take this the wrong way - but you were the one who ran away.”

Lisbon thought about that. Dammit, Van Pelt had a point. Jane had tried to talk to her, and she hid in the closet - the one place she knew he wouldn’t follow.

“I guess I did.” What was it, exactly, that had made her so upset? That he stopped her from reciprocating or that he had called her ‘Lisbon’, forcing her to come crashing back to reality? More and more she found herself retreating into the narrative of ‘Teresa and Patrick’. When she was ‘Teresa’ she was allowed to do all the things that were forbidden to ‘Lisbon’.

“Hey,” Van Pelt said quietly, “it’s going to be okay.”

Lisbon realized there were tears on her cheeks. She reached up to wipe them away.

“Ugh, I hate crying,” she said.

* * *

Tears or no tears, talking with Van Pelt had made her feel better. They went back to the office - Van Pelt because she had to get back to work, and Lisbon because she honestly didn’t know where else to go.

Lisbon was dreading the evening briefing, and tried to keep herself busy. She didn’t want to pull the plug on the op, and she was sure now that if she and Jane could talk, they would work this out. But just because she had come to that decision, didn’t mean Jane would agree. She wondered where he was spending his day off.

The evening briefing arrived at last, but Jane was nowhere to be found. He had slipped his detail earlier (not unusual for Jane) and hadn’t been seen all day. They waited half an hour before starting to get worried.

It wasn’t the first time Jane had disappeared in the middle of a case, but this was different - what if the killer had stalked him and abducted him? Or killed him?

Calls to his phone went to voicemail, and he wasn’t responding to text. The car was still in CBI parking, so wherever he had gone, he’d used alternative transportation.

Just when she was about to get frantic, Rigsby called to say the interior cameras had just gone live and that Jane was in the house.

“What the hell is he doing there?” Lisbon demanded.

“Looks like he’s working on the kitchen,” came Rigsby’s voice. “And from the progress, I’d say he’s been there all day.”

Jane had spent his day off at the house? Why?

“How did he get in without anyone seeing? I thought there was supposed to be someone monitoring the exterior cameras at all times.”

“You’ll have to ask Penthor, she was on duty today.”

According to Penthor, Jane entered the house just after 11AM. She had noted it in her log and everything.

“And no one thought to check the log?” Lisbon asked through gritted teeth. Of all the stupid mistakes…

_At least he isn’t lying dead in a pool of his own blood_ , Lisbon thought, relieved.

“What do you want to do, Agent Lisbon?” Hightower asked. Lisbon shrugged.

“I guess I’ll go home.”

“You certain?”

“Yeah boss. Jane and I will work it out.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow. And tell Jane he’s not to miss anymore briefings.”

* * *

“Patrick?” she called when she got inside.

“In the kitchen,” he called back.

She found him painting cabinets, jacket and vest discarded, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Hey,” he said, putting down the paintbrush.

“Hey,” she said. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too.”

He moved to kiss her, but hesitated at the last moment. She took that final step herself, moving into his embrace and raising her face to his. The kiss was tentative at first - almost a question. She wrapped her arms around him and the kiss deepened into something more certain.

Heat bloomed between them as they pressed together more firmly. Jane broke from her lips to kiss down the side of her neck, lightly grazing teeth over her clavicle, while she encouraged him by twining her fingers through his hair. He backed her against the island, then lifted her onto it, her legs opening to let him step between them, pulling her to the edge of the counter so she was pressed against him. They continued to kiss desperately and Jane began unbuttoning her shirt. He licked along the lace edge of her bra.

“Wait,” she said breathlessly. He looked up at once, his pupils dilated with lust. “We-” She didn’t know how to say what she needed to say. “We haven’t had dinner. I’m starving. Can - can we order in?”

Jane looked up at her for a long moment, his eyes darting over her face, reading what she was saying behind the actual words. They needed to talk before engaging in another scene like the one last night. Air needed to be cleared, apologies uttered - and none of it could be done as long as the cameras were live.

“Of course,” he said, stepping back. “Thai?”

“Sounds great.”

They ate in the living room while some silly movie played on the TV. Lisbon asked him about the progress of the kitchen and he asked her about her day.

“I had lunch with Grace,” she said.

“Oh? Didn’t get enough of each other at dinner last night?”

“Well, it’s different, you know, when it’s just the two of us.”

“I see. And?”

“And it was nice. She helped me talk through some things that have been on my mind.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

An hour later, Lisbon accidentally-on-purpose fell asleep on the couch, and Jane carried her up to bed.

* * *

She woke later to find herself laying tucked up against Jane’s side, one arm thrown over his chest and one leg between his. Lisbon could never remember being this clingy while sleeping next to a guy before, yet she seemed to find herself waking up wrapped around him like her favorite stuffed animal just a tad too often.

She started to extricate herself, but Jane stopped her.

“No, don’t go, please. I sleep better when you’re with me.”

Lisbon settled back down, her head tucked under his chin, his heat holding her like an embrace, his scent (a faint, spicy cologne accompanied by the natural musk of wood and sweat) calming her as she breathed it in.

“Did you hear from Van Pelt?”

“Yeah, signals off.”

“Then we have some important things to talk about,” she said. “Are you sure you want to do that here?”

“Unless you’re going to yell at me again, yes. I’d rather have you where I can keep you from running away from me.”

“Hey, I may have done the actual physical running away, but you ran away first. Metaphorically. Emotionally. And then, today, physically as well, so if anyone deserves to be handcuffed to this bed right now, it’s you.”

“How did I run away today? I didn’t run away, I was here all day.”

“Yeah, without telling me. You just disappeared.”

“Hightower told us to take the day, so I took the day - why am I getting yelled at for that?”

“I’m not yelling.”

“Your volume may not technically qualify as ‘yelling’ but your tone definitely does.”

Lisbon took a breath and counted to ten in her head.

“Okay, I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Just to clarify: are you apologizing for yelling now or for yelling this morning?” Lisbon pinched him. “OW! What was that for?”

“For being a smartass.”

“You are a difficult woman to understand - one minute you’re apologizing and then you’re pinching me.”

“I’ll do it again if you don’t watch yourself.”

They were silent for a moment.

“I am sorry, Jane - for this morning, for last night. You needed to talk to me and I didn’t want to hear it. I should have given you a chance to speak. I’m giving you that chance now, if you want it.” Lisbon waited for him to begin, her stomach tied in knots. She had promised herself she would hear him out, but she knew whatever he said was going to hurt. She had a habit of avoiding things that hurt. So much so, she hadn’t realized how good she had become at running away.

“Lisbon, last night - you have no idea how much I wanted what you offered me.”

“But?” she asked warily.

“But I wanted _you_ to offer it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t. Because you don’t see what I see when you’re playing your part and you look at me.”

“What-?”

“You aren’t you. You’re ‘Teresa’, this character you’ve crafted to act out your desires without any fear of consequences.”

“That’s not - that’s just my cover id.”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s like you purposefully distance yourself so whatever you’re feeling doesn’t touch you. And that would be fine if this were just an undercover persona, but it isn’t. It’s you acting on those things you really want, deep down, but are afraid of ever actually getting.”

“Okay, but that’s just stupid. If I were using this ‘persona’ to protect myself from getting hurt - well, it’s not working.”

“I know, that’s what I’m trying to say. You think being ‘Teresa’ protects you, but it doesn’t. It just makes everything worse. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself like this.”

Lisbon sat up.

“Don’t,” he said, “please don’t run - you promised.”

“I’m not running, I just need… a little distance.” She moved to her side of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. Jane did the same on his side.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “It was selfish of me. I knew what it would mean for us to continue what we started the other morning, but… I wanted to see you like that again. I wanted to be the one to make you come again. And yes, part of it was pride - I wanted to prove it wasn’t a fluke, that it was me; my… skills. I’ve always been competitive in bed.” He shrugged, “It’s a flaw.”

“Please, you don’t really think it’s a flaw. You’re proud of it.”

“Okay, yes, I am. I never claimed to be humble.”

Lisbon snorted.

“But it’s also you, Lisbon. I don’t think you understand what you do to me. One taste and I was hooked. The way you look, the sounds you make, the way you feel clenched so deliciously around me.”

Lisbon shuddered and drew her knees to her chest, hugging them to her.

“I want you so much it hurts,” he continued. “I ache for you.”

“So take me,” she whispered. “I’m offering - I want you too.”

“I can’t. If I do… I’ll never be able to let you go again.”

“So?” she asked, turning to look at him in the semi-dark. “Would that really be so bad?”

“You know the answer to that.”

He was right: she did. They were too broken, both of them in their own ways. Between the two of them, they had enough baggage to fill a freight car. They didn’t get happily-ever-after. They didn’t get hearts and rainbows and sunsets. They didn’t get to fall in love. Not with each other.

“I can’t give you what you deserve, Lisbon. Not until Red John is dead and even then… I don’t know if I’ll ever really be capable. I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again.”

“But I’m not asking you to be,” she said. “I’m not asking for forever - I’m _not._ I know what the score is. I know this ends when the case ends, but until then… I want this. I want to pretend we could have this, even if only for a little while. I want you.”

He shook his head.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You aren’t giving me enough credit. Jane,” she crawled to him, swung one leg over to straddle him, hands coming to rest on either side of his head, fingers running through his curls. She could feel him already hot and hard beneath her. He looked up at her, breathing fast, the yearning clear on his face. “I’m stronger than you think I am. And now that I know this might be all I can ever have of you, I’m not going to let it go.”

“You have it backwards, Lisbon,” Jane said, licking his lips, “I know you’re strong - I’m the weak one. When this is over, you’ll be sad, sure. But you’ll recover. I don’t know if I can say the same.”

“Okay, look. If you don’t want to do this - if you’d rather go back to being professional and faking it, I’ll respect that. I’ll never bring it up again, I promise. We can finish the op with boundaries firmly in place. I just want to be clear: I’m offering something more. Maybe that’s foolish of me, but it’s what I want. No more guilt. No more wondering if we’re going to be okay after this is over. We promise each other, here and now, that we will be okay. No more miscommunication. We do this, or we don’t.”

“And you promise to be Lisbon, and stop retreating into ‘Teresa’?” he asked.

“I’ll do my best.”

He looked up at her for a moment, thinking.

“No sex,” he said finally.

“Okay, I don’t know what you think we’ve _been_ doing-”

“I mean, no actual penis in vagina sex.”

“So clinical, Mr. Jane - way to take the romance out of it.” That earned her a laugh. “Still, that leaves a lot on the table. You sure you don’t want to make any further stipulations?” She saw the mischievous grin a second too late as he lifted her off his lap and dumped her on her back. Before she could protest, he was pulling down her pajama pants and her underwear, and discarding them over the side of the bed. He pushed her legs apart and knelt between them.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted to taste you?” he asked while pressing kisses into her thighs.

“Um, I’ll take this as an acceptance of my proposal?” she said. He gave her a predatory smile.

“Yes.” With that, he bent down and slid his tongue through her wet folds, teasing at her entrance for a moment before swirling up around her clit. Sparks shot through her, like little electric jolts, making her twitch and cry out. Fuck that was good. He sucked her clit gently, then pushed his tongue inside her, the flexible muscle moving in her, sliding like velvet in and out.

“Oh fuck,” she cried. “I knew that tongue had to be good for something other than mouthing off and getting us in trouble. Hey! No stopping,” she said as he sat up.

“You better apologize to my tongue if you want it to continue.”

She sat up, grabbed his face and kissed him hard, sucking the aforementioned muscle, and tasting herself on him.

“I’m very, very sorry,” she said when they finally broke apart.

“Apology accepted.”

She lay back as he kissed his way back down her thighs and then once again thrust that glorious tongue into her. She couldn’t believe all the things he did to her - had never felt anything like it. First he would flatten his tongue until it felt larger than she thought possible, then he pointed it and searched out that spongy spot inside that made her stomach flutter, rubbing it over and over. And then he retreated to flick her clit rapidly, bringing her to the edge, only to change to a gentle suction, and snatch her back from the brink. Her fingers were in his hair, not pulling, just keeping him there, but as he pulled that trick a third time, she started to get impatient. She tugged his hair, just hard enough to hurt. He moaned against her, the vibrations adding a new dimension to the sensations, and she echoed the moan.

Two fingers pressed into her while he flicked his wicked tongue against her. The fingers moved in and out, curling against that spot while his tongue swirled around her clit, building her pleasure to a fever pitch. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he sucked hard, and sent her over the edge, fingers moving in her as she shuddered and moaned.

He pressed his tongue alongside his fingers, fucking her with all three while she bucked and convulsed against him. Her fingers tightened of their own volition, pulling on his hair and making him groan again.

At last, she subsided, coming down from the high, muscles going limp. He moved up to kiss her and she licked her own juices from his tongue, luxuriating in the afterglow, feeling relaxed and happy. They lay together for some time while Lisbon recovered.

“My turn,” she said at last, rolling over.

“Wait, not here,” he said.

“Then where?” she asked.

“Shower.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s going to get messy and I don’t want to sleep in a wet spot.”

“You’re assuming I don’t just swallow everything you give me,” she arched an eyebrow at him.

“Dear god, woman, you are going to be the death of me… but I would still rather do this in the shower.”

“Somehow I just knew you would be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Fussy.”

“I’m not fussy.”

“You’re a little fussy.”

“You know, you could show a little gratitude - I did just fuck you senseless.”

“I’m trying to show you gratitude, you’re the one insisting I show you gratitude in the shower instead of right here in our big, cozy bed.”

“OK, well, I’m going in there. If you would like to follow, please do.” Jane slipped into the bathroom and after a moment, Lisbon followed. He was just removing his boxers when she entered, and she took a moment to appreciate the view.

“God you’re huge,” she said. She was suddenly very disappointed that she had agreed to no sex-sex. She could just imagine how amazing it would feel to be stretched by that cock, to be filled up and taken hard.

“Am I?” Jane asked. His tone was innocent, but the smug grin wasn’t.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to swallow that thing.”

“You’ll do your best.”

_I’m sure going to try_ , she thought. She pulled off the rest of her clothes, and they got in the steamy shower together.

Jane ran soapy hands down her back and squeezed the fleshy globes of her ass. He slapped one cheek making her jump and moan.

“Didn’t you say something about handcuffs earlier,” he murmured in her ear.

“Next time,” she promised.

She took the soap from him and began to lather his chest then down his stomach. She stroked him lightly and he braced himself against the wall. She turned him around, rinsing away the soap while she did the same to his back, rubbing the tense muscles there. She slapped his ass.

“Don’t, I’ll come,” he moaned.

“You’d come just from me slapping your ass?”

“I’m so keyed up I’m about to come just from looking at you.”

“I better get to work then,” she said, turning him so his back was to the spray, protecting her, and dropped to her knees. She looked up at him and he groaned and looked away. He really was on edge.

She took him in her hand and licked him from base to crown, tongue swirling over the tip, tasting the pre-come there.

“Fuck,” he said, throwing his arms out to brace himself against the shower walls. She took pity on him, stopped teasing and got down to business. She could only fit about half of him in her mouth, but she really tried for more, opening the back of her throat and letting him slip just a little further before swallowing around him. “Oh fuck!” She pulled back to breathe, looking up at him again. He was watching her with amazement, and she felt pride well up in her chest. Jane wasn’t the only one who was competitive in bed.

She swallowed him back down, moving with real purpose now, bobbing and sucking, her tongue sliding over him. She felt one hand in her hair, fingers twining through the strands, encouraging her. She opened the back of her throat again, fighting her gag reflex and swallowed as much of him as she could. He came with a cry and she swallowed once more before pulling back, stroking him with her hand while he spurted over her face and chest.

He pulled her to her feet, licked a dribble of come off her chin and kissed her.

“That was amazing,” he said after they broke apart. “For a nice Catholic girl you sure have a lot of dirty talents.” She smacked his arm, but he just grinned at her. He trailed a finger through the come on her chest. “See? I told you we would make a mess.” He popped the finger in his mouth, licking it clean.

“That doesn’t bother you?” she asked, nodding at the finger.

“Why would it?” he asked.

“I don’t know, a lot of guys get weird about that - they think tasting their own cum makes them gay or something.”

“Because tasting someone else’s cum is considered oh-so-straight?”

She laughed.

“You know what I mean.”

“I guess I’m secure enough in my own sexuality, it doesn’t bother me.”

They cleaned each other up, laughing and tickling, stopping to kiss sometimes.

Once they were clean and dry, Lisbon went into the closet to get clean pajamas. Jane appeared a moment later, phone in hand. She could tell something was wrong, and felt her stomach drop. He handed her the phone silently and she read the text there: [Signal is live].

Crap. She looked at the time it was sent and tried to work backwards in her head to determine just how much the killer and Van Pelt had seen. _Does it matter?_ she thought. _They certainly saw enough._

She looked up at him.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s Van Pelt - she won’t say anything.” _Thank God it was Van Pelt and not Cho or Rigsby - I would never be able to look them in the eye again._ “Jane, it’s really okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and went back out to let her finish getting dressed.

She crawled into bed next to him, and checked her own phone. There was a text from Van Pelt.

[Glad you guys worked everything out.]


	8. The Trigger

The rest of the weekend went routinely by. They spent most of it working on the kitchen, or curled up together reading. Lisbon had never been very good at being idle, but found that she enjoyed it with Jane by her side.

The Monday morning briefing was unremarkable with the exception of two things. One, someone had hacked Jane’s work computer:

“Can you trace it back to the hacker?” Lisbon asked.

“Unfortunately no. He wasn’t on long enough,” said Van Pelt.

“Do we know what was accessed?”

“Looks like the only file that was pulled was the calendar.”

“Well that’s good. Might mean he’s ready to step up the stalking beyond just watching the cameras.”

The second thing was the way Van Pelt blushed every time she looked at Jane. Jane, of course, found this highly amusing, and kept surprising her, popping up behind her while she gave her report, making her stammer.

After the briefing, Lisbon went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and Van Pelt followed her. They smiled awkwardly at each other. What does one say to a friend and colleague who watched you have oral sex with your other friend and colleague? Emily Post did not cover this. Van Pelt was just about to say something when Jane appeared around the corner, snuck right up to her and muttered in her ear: “Saw something you liked?”

Van Pelt jumped, spilling hot coffee over her hand, and yelped.

“Dammit Jane!” she cried, setting down her cup and grabbing a paper towel to clean herself up. His smile only got wider. Lisbon scowled at him.

“Stop that,” she said.

“Stop what?” he said innocently. “Grace is the one acting all squirrely this morning. I thought you said we could trust her.”

“Hey! You can trust me,” Van Pelt said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I didn’t say anything did I?”

“No, but the way you’re acting is going to give us away anyway.”

“Well sorry. Maybe next time you should check your damn phone before you tongue-fuck each other.”

“Grace! You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“OK, OK,” Lisbon stepped in before Van Pelt could say whatever it was she was going to come back with. “Van Pelt, thank you for keeping what you saw to yourself. We both,” she glared at Jane, “really appreciate your discretion.”

“I told you I had your back, boss.”

“I know, thank you. As for you,” she rounded on Jane, “stop pressing Van Pelt’s buttons.”

“Was I pressing buttons? I had no idea…”

“I mean it, Jane. Cut it out. We’re all adults here, let’s try to act like it.”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one touching myself in the van while watching us go at it,” said Jane with a pointed look at Van Pelt. Lisbon looked to Van Pelt to deny it, but instead saw the blood drain from her face.

“I- I didn’t,” she said, unconvincingly. Lisbon stared at her, dumbfounded. “OK, maybe after, but not in the van. I couldn’t, Marks was there watching the exterior cameras. Look, I’m sorry, but… it was really hot. Like porn but… better.” She turned to Jane. “How did you know?”

“Your embarrassment this morning was accompanied by a healthy dollop of guilt. What else could you feel guilty about that involved both myself and Lisbon? That, and you have a nice warm glow about you this morning that can only mean an entire weekend spent achieving satisfaction.”

Van Pelt smacked him on the arm.

“Don’t be gross!”

“How am I the gross one? You’re the gross one, you filthy little voyeur.”

“I was doing my job!”

Rigsby came around the corner, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt.

“Hey, boss, I think I might have something.” He paused to look at the three of them, noticing that he had walked into something. “I could come back?”

“No, Rigsby, it’s fine,” Lisbon assured him. “What do you have?”

“I was going through the personal calendars of the victims. Since the killer accessed Jane’s calendar, I figured he probably did the same to the others, right? Anyway, I found something odd: about a week before each of the couples were killed, the women all scheduled doctors appointments.”

“Did the autopsies show anything wrong with the women? Were they sick?”

“No, nothing significant.”

“Oh,” Jane said quietly.

“What?” Lisbon asked.

“They were pregnant.”

“No, they couldn’t - the autopsy report would have shown that,” Lisbon said.

“Not if it was early enough,” Jane said, shaking his head. “The only way to tell would be to run a blood test. The coroner wouldn’t have needed to do that, since the cause of death was obvious.”

“So, that’s it. That’s the trigger. The killer abducted them after they found out they were pregnant.” Lisbon looked up into Jane’s eyes. They had figured it out. Now all they had to do was fake a pregnancy, and they would have the guy. And once he was caught… all of this was over. Lisbon felt like someone was squeezing her heart. _No. It couldn’t be over, not now! Not just when she and Jane…_

“Well this is great!” said Rigsby. “I’ll go tell Agent Manderley.”

Lisbon looked away, swallowing around the burning in her throat.

“Yeah, I’d better go too,” Van Pelt said awkwardly, slipping away.

“You should get to work,” Lisbon said to Jane. “We’ll sort out the details here, and have a plan by the evening briefing.”

“Lisbon…”

“No, really. You should go. I’m fine. Really.” She walked away without a backward glance, and didn’t see the look he sent after her.

* * *

By the evening briefing, the plan was complete. They were to go ahead with the schedule as it was - including another double date with Rigsby and Van Pelt - and on the weekend, they would stage a pregnancy test and celebration.

A little more than one week. That could be all they had. Maybe two, if they were lucky and the killer waited to come after them.

That night, when Jane leaned over in bed to kiss her goodnight, Lisbon couldn’t imagine going back to a time when she hadn’t kissed Jane every day. She couldn’t imagine going back to just being friends and colleagues. To living alone. She thought about her empty apartment and what it would feel like to be there without him.

She fit herself against his side, holding him to her like she was afraid to let go. He kissed the top of her head, and stroked her hair.

“I love you, Teresa,” he murmured. She knew what he was trying to say: that they were going to be alright, that they would get through this. She just wasn’t sure she believed it.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back.

* * *

When she woke the next day, he was sitting on the bed dressed in casual clothes, the sort of thing he wore on the weekends, not to work. She turned off her alarm and looked at him, confused.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she replied, puzzled.

“I thought maybe we’d play hooky - stay home today,” he said.

“I can’t,” Lisbon said regretfully. “You know I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Lisbon looked at him. They couldn’t just not show up at CBI for the briefing. What reason could they possibly give that didn’t make it painfully obvious they wanted to spend more time together? They were already walking a dangerous line - this would be a step too far.

“Tomorrow then?” Jane asked, hopefully.

“We’ll see,” she said.

She nearly choked when he brought it up at the morning briefing.

“It’ll be good,” he was saying to Agent Manderley, “whet the killer’s appetite for domestic bliss. We’re baiting the hook - want to make sure the fish takes a bite, right?”

Manderley thought it was a great idea. Lisbon was starting to wonder if Manderley was a secret romantic or just really wanted to catch this guy. Possibly both.

So, the next day, when Lisbon woke, Jane was beside her. The moment her eyes opened, he pulled her to him, burying his face in her neck.

“I’m going to miss this,” he sighed. Lisbon blinked away the sudden prickling behind her eyes.

“Me too,” she said.

“I actually sleep when you’re next to me.”

“Do you?”

“Well, more than I usually would, anyway. Even the nightmares seem better - not so intense.” He began kissing her neck, one hand sneaking under her tank top to massage her breasts.

“Jane,” she murmured, “signal?”

“Meh, let them watch,” he whispered in her ear. But she couldn’t - Rigsby was on duty this morning. It wasn’t that she thought he would betray them, but she wanted to be able to look him in the eye after this. She turned to kiss his forehead.

“We can’t,” she said. Jane pulled back to look at her.

“OK. You better shower first then.”

“Why-? Oh.” She thought for a moment. “Well maybe we could…”

“No, you’re right. There will be time - later.”

Lisbon felt her heart seize. Not enough time. Not nearly enough time. But she nodded anyway, and went to take her shower, leaving Jane to get control of his libido.

They spent the day finishing the improvements to the kitchen. Lisbon was impressed with Jane’s skill. But then, he’d always been good with his hands, she thought, arching an eyebrow. He looked at her watching him and smiled as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He usually did.

He cooked dinner in their new kitchen, Lisbon helping under his direction. They moved seamlessly together, like a coordinated dance. Jane kept stealing kisses while they worked, pulling her against him, running his hands over her ass. Lisbon smiled and laughed every time he did, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closer.

When they had finished dinner, Lisbon began to clean up but Jane came up behind her, turning her around and kissing her eagerly. She held her soapy hands out so as not to drip on him, but he pulled her away from the sink, spinning her until her back was to the island, and then lifted her onto it. She wiped her hands hastily on her own jeans, before running them through his hair, tipping his head back to kiss him again. He stepped between her legs, pulling her closer, and she wrapped them around his torso.

The signal hadn’t gone off all day. They had made it well-known both at the dealership and at CBI that she and Jane were taking the day off, with the hopes that the killer was keeping tabs on them. She wondered, briefly, what he did for a living that he could spend the day watching his favorite subjects.

Jane pulled off her t-shirt and mouthed her breasts through the lace bra. Lisbon knew that Cho had replaced Rigsby by now, and tried not to think too much about what he might think of this scene. At least she could trust Cho’s poker-face not to give them away, unlike Rigsby who would probably give away the whole game with one ill-timed blush.

She began unbuttoning Jane’s shirt, pushing it down and off. He undid the closure on her jeans, and pulled down the zipper. She uncrossed her ankles so he could step back and pull them off her. He kissed the bottom of one foot and she let out a giggle. He kissed his way up her leg until he reached her thigh. He continued upward, pressing a kiss over her heartbeat and then finally finding her lips again. She wrapped her legs around him once more, her arms around his neck. His hands moved under her butt, lifting her. She let him carry her upstairs.

“You’re pretty spry for an old man,” she muttered in his ear.

“Careful, or this ‘old man’ might just drop you by accident.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t tempt me, woman.”

They made it to the bedroom, and only then did he drop her on the bed. He crawled in after her, pressing kisses to her stomach. She pulled him up, sucking a spot on his neck, and nibbling delicately on his earlobe.

“Let’s make a baby,” she murmured. He pulled back at once.

“Don’t,” he said, eyes filled with pain.

“Sorry,” she said at once. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” She stroked his face, ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth away the pain her thoughtless words had brought. For the moment, she didn’t care who was watching. “Jane…” She kissed his cheek. “Forgive me.”

He swallowed and nodded, pulling the hand that was stroking his face to his lips and laying a delicate kiss on the pulse point in her wrist. He moved off the bed and began taking off his trousers while Lisbon got under the covers. Still wearing his boxers, he got in after her. She crawled on top of him, straddling him and bringing her aching sex against his straining hardness. They groaned in unison. She rocked against him, wishing she could feel him inside her, knowing how intense it would be at this angle, with gravity helping to push him deeper. Lisbon had always liked being on top - it gave her a feeling of control - but it wasn’t really practical in this case. There was no way to pull the covers up enough to disguise the fact that they weren’t actually doing what it looked like they were doing.

Still, she moved against him for a little while longer, enjoying the friction, the feeling of his hands as they roamed over her body, before giving him a Look. Jane took the hint, and smoothly rolled them so that he was on top. _Aren’t you just full of tricks?_ she thought. He’d even managed to move them further under cover.

She tugged at the waistband of his boxers insistently, and after cocking an eyebrow at her, he obliged. She pretended to take off her own underwear while he was removing his. Once again, she wished they could do this for real, but it had been Jane’s only stipulation, and she wanted to respect his boundaries.

He settled between her legs once more, and she reached to stroke his erection, making him shudder. He thrust into her hand setting up a slow but steady rhythm. She squeezed her fist tighter and he cried out and moved faster. Just when she thought he might go over the edge, he paused, pushing her hand away. His fingers rubbed over her mound through the slick fabric of her underwear, then slipped the cloth aside and plunged into her. Lisbon cried out as he set a brutal pace, fucking her with first two and then three fingers, his thumb moving over her clit. She was clenching around him, trying to draw his fingers deeper, hips thrusting against him. She reached for him again, stroking him hard and fast, her other hand fondling his balls. They came right on the heels of the other, Lisbon convulsing around his fingers, while he painted her stomach with his seed.

He collapsed beside her, both breathing hard as they came down. Lisbon felt the come cooling on her stomach.

“I need a shower,” she said. Jane laughed and rolled over to nuzzle her neck.

“I told you: messy. I don’t suppose we could have one together.”

Lisbon seriously considered it.

“Let’s just wait,” she murmured. “Maybe if we ‘fall asleep’ we’ll get lucky.”

And so, they waited. It seemed like a long time, but probably wasn’t actually all that long before they both got a text from Cho saying the signal was dark.

“Thank God,” Lisbon said, already getting out of bed. “You coming?” she asked over her shoulder. Jane grinned widely and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is having a nice New Year's Day! I'm officially on vacation today, but will try to maintain regular updates. I know there have been a lot of sex scenes, and you all have been so lovely about telling me you are enjoying the story even though some of you aren't so keen on those usually. I just want you to know we are coming up to a long stretch without any, not the next chapter but maybe after that (I don't remember exactly just now). That's also when we'll be getting into some major angst and drama, so I hope you're ready!


	9. Tests and Nightmares

She worried about going to work the next day, but everything seemed fine. Cho looked no differently at her than he always did, and he didn’t report anything unusual about their ‘lovemaking’. Rigsby, who hadn’t seen anything worth blushing over, blushed anyway, and she was glad she’d put a stop to their activities that morning. She hoped he would get over it in time for their ‘double date’ Friday night.

When Friday rolled around, they all got wired up with mics and earpieces to better communicate with the team. The ‘date’ had been clearly marked on the calendar the killer had hacked, and they expected to be followed this time.

“Just remember,” Lisbon told them at the evening briefing, “nobody moves unless you are absolutely sure. We don’t want to scare him off. If we tip our hand, and he gets away, that’s it - game over. Understood? Good.”

This time felt much less like a ‘double date’ and more like a sting operation, and Lisbon had a hard time relaxing. Jane remained as affectionate as ever, distracting her with teasing touches and light kisses, until she was forced to unwind a bit. Van Pelt - not to be outdone - played the same game with Rigsby, who looked increasingly uncomfortable with the attention.

About half-way through the evening, Jane leaned in to whisper in her ear: “There’s a man at the bar watching us.” Lisbon stopped herself from looking around for the man in question, and instead excused herself to the restroom. Van Pelt opted to join her, and they walked past the bar together, Lisbon letting her gaze sweep over the people seated there. She spotted the man Jane had noticed. He looked normal - blond hair, blue eyes, conventionally attractive but with an off vibe to him. He was nursing a beer alone at the end of the bar. She caught him watching her and Van Pelt as they went by before turning his gaze back to Jane and Rigsby. He was keeping an eye on them, alright.

“You see him?” Lisbon asked Van Pelt quietly, once they were safely in the ladies room. Van Pelt pulled lipstick out of her purse and began to reapply.

“I saw him. He wasn’t exactly being subtle about watching us.”

“Why would he? He has no reason to think we suspect we’re being followed.”

“Boss?” came Cho’s voice over the earpiece. “Should we move in?”

“No, I don’t want to spook him.”

“We could change venues,” Van Pelt suggested. “See if he follows? There’s a cafe a few blocks down, we could go there for dessert?”

“Sounds good,” Lisbon agreed. “Cho, get the team ready to move.”

“You got it, boss.”

They returned from the restroom, and sat down. Jane put a hand on her thigh and smiled his dazzling smile at her.

“Let’s walk down to that little cafe on the corner,” Van Pelt said, taking Rigsby’s hand in hers. “I hear they have great desserts.”

They headed out - Van Pelt and Rigsby still holding hands, Jane sliding an arm around Lisbon’s waist. Blondie followed them down the block, but didn’t go in the cafe. Worried they had lost him, they ordered dessert anyway, and waited.

“Cho?” Lisbon muttered. “You got eyes on him?”

“He doubled back and got into a car not far from where you parked and hasn’t moved.”

“You get a license plate?”

“Yeah, we’re running it now. Should have a name soon.”

They finished dessert and decided to call it a night. Jane and Lisbon walked back toward their car.

“Cho? He still there?” Lisbon asked.

“Still there. We have a problem, though - the car is registered to a Claire Phillips, and it was reported stolen two nights ago.”

“So we still don’t have a name.”

“Sorry, no. What do you want us to do? Should we pick him up?”

“Bad idea,” Jane said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Well, watching us in a restaurant is hardly a criminal offense - what if we can’t get a warrant, or what if he isn’t keeping the equipment in his house? We’ll have no proof that he’s the one watching the cameras. Our best bet is to catch him in the act. We pick him up now, we’ll never get that chance.”

“He’s driving a stolen car, we could drag him in for that, put him in interrogation and see what we can get out of him,” Cho suggested.

“Even so, Jane has a point,” said Lisbon. “A stolen car is still a long way from stalking, abduction and murder.” She thought for a moment, and they slowed their pace to give her time to consider the options. “Let’s stick to the plan,” she said at last. “Cho, keep an eye on him, but don’t get too close. See if you can get an id.”

“Got it.”

She hoped she was making the right call for the right reasons, and not just because she wasn’t ready for this to be over yet.

They had reached the car now, but before Lisbon could open the door, Jane pushed her against it and kissed her, running his hands through her hair. She kissed him back, sliding her tongue against his, fingers tightening around the lapels of his jacket.

“What was that for?” she asked when they parted.

“Just putting on a show,” he said with a smirk and a wink. She rolled her eyes and swatted his ass when he turned to go around to the driver’s side door.

The stolen car followed them about halfway home, but then they lost him.

“Sorry, boss,” Cho said. “We were keeping our distance, trying not to scare him, and he just slipped away.”

“It’s okay, Cho. We knew that was a possibility. We’ll get him.”

* * *

Saturday found them, once again, happily entwined in bed. Lisbon lay with her head on Jane’s shoulder wondering if this time next week she would be back in her apartment, alone. Jane’s arms tightened around her as though he knew what she was thinking.

Later in the day, Lisbon drove to a pharmacy and picked up a pregnancy test. She doubted the killer followed her, but they weren’t taking any chances now that they were so close to catching him. When she arrived back home, she showed Jane what she bought.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” he said. He was smiling, but she thought he looked sad.

He waited on the bed while she went into the bathroom and pretended to take the test. When she came back out, she sat next to him and set a timer on her phone. He took her hand while they waited. The timer ran out, she took a deep breath, and checked the results.

She found that she couldn’t speak, so she nodded instead. Jane’s face split into the biggest smile.

“Yes?” he said.

“Yes,” she answered, forcing herself to smile. She hadn’t realized how difficult this would be. They hugged and kissed in celebration, and Lisbon closed her eyes when Jane bent to kiss her stomach. She felt ill. Not only was this the beginning of the end for them, but she couldn’t help but wonder how Jane was dealing with this scene they were playing out. Did it remind him of his wife and daughter? Had he sat with Angela and waited for that line to appear same as he had sat with Lisbon now?

He cupped her face in his hands and she realized she was crying. He wiped away a tear with his thumb and kissed her slow and deep. She could only hope the killer read her tears as happy ones.

“Let’s go out for dinner,” he said. “Celebrate.”

Lisbon nodded, not trusting her voice.

* * *

She tried to enjoy dinner - even if she did have to skip the wine. Jane used every excuse to touch her, and she knew he was trying to comfort her in the only way he could.

When they got home, they went up to the bedroom where Jane began slowly to undress her. He unbuttoned her blouse, kissing the spot above her collarbone. He pushed it down off her shoulders, his hands sliding over bare flesh, raising goosebumps. He knelt in front of her, pressing more kisses to her stomach as he pulled down the zipper on her skirt and helped her step out of it. She ran her hands through his hair, tipping his head back to look at her. She wanted to fix the way he looked in her mind forever. She would never see him like this again, even if she saw him every day for the next ten years.

He took her hand and kissed it and she was reminded of their first night here together - how nervous she had been, how scared that it would change things between them forever. She’d been right, but not in the way she had feared. This was so much worse.

Jane stood, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her softly.

“Don’t be sad, Lisbon,” he murmured in her ear.

She took her time undressing him, just as he had with her, running her hands over his bare flesh.

He unhooked her bra, and massaged her breasts.

They climbed into bed and Jane pulled off her underwear.

His fingers found her wet and aching. He took his time, building her pleasure slowly, but then he stopped.

“I want to taste you again,” he said. “When we’re alone.”

She nodded agreement, and they faked the end of their lovemaking, the way they had the first two times.

Waiting for the signal to go dark was torture. When the message finally came, Jane threw back the covers and looked at her like he, too, wanted to capture this moment in his memory forever.

He kissed his way down her body, then opened her legs and knelt between them. He licked her folds with that deliciously wicked tongue and her breath hitched in her chest. She was already so keyed up, she found herself on the edge almost immediately.

“Jane,” she moaned, “please, I want you inside me, please.”

He crawled up her body and brushed the softest of kisses to her lips.

“I can’t, Lisbon,” he said regretfully. He smoothed back her hair from her face. “To know what might have been... it would kill me. I’m sorry.” She knew he was right. She kissed him again, trying to let him know she understood, and that she wasn’t upset.

He returned to his ministrations, tongue and fingers moving in her, building to a fever pitch and then, finally, sending her flying.

She came down slowly, basking in the glow of her pleasure. When she recovered, she moved over him, pulling down his boxers, letting his erection spring free. She touched him lightly, then more firmly, stroking slowly. When she took him in her mouth he cried her name. She licked the underside in one long stripe, one hand around the base. She swallowed as much as she could take, fighting her gag reflex to let him slip down her throat. His hips twitched with an aborted thrust. She drew back to catch her breath, then swallowed him down again.

“Oh fuck, Lisbon,” he breathed. She could feel he was close. She sucked on the crown, hollowing her cheeks, while her fist worked the shaft hard and fast. He came with her name on his lips. She swallowed the first spurt, then pulled off, still stroking him through it.

When he came down at last, she went to the bathroom and brought back a wet washcloth to clean up. She wiped the come off his stomach and pressed a kiss to his soft member.

“If you’re trying for round two, I think we’re out of luck,” he said. “I mean, I’m willing to try but…”

“No, that’s all right,” she said.

“You sure? Just because I can’t doesn’t mean -”

“No, thank you. I’m good.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

There was so much she wanted to say, but found she couldn’t say any of it.

She got rid of the washcloth, and got back in bed, draping herself on him like she could keep them both there forever.

* * *

She woke with a jolt when a scream ripped through the silence. Jane was tossing violently beside her.

“NO!” he screamed again.

“Jane! Wake up!” she began shaking him, ducking his flailing limbs.

“Lisbon!” he gasped, coming awake at last. He sat up, breathing hard. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He was going to hyperventilate.

“Deep breaths, Jane. Slow and easy. Just breathe.” She rubbed his back. He drew his knees up and hung his head between them, still struggling to breathe. “Shhhh, it’s okay - you’re okay.”

He was just starting to calm when Cho and Frenetti burst through the bedroom door.

“Hands where I can see them!”

“Lisbon, Jane, you all right?”

“Cho?” Lisbon said, trying to see him clearly in the dark. Someone switched on the overhead light, throwing the scene into sharp relief. It was only then that Lisbon realized she was naked, and hastily drew the covers up around her. Cho and Frenetti looked away and holstered their guns. “What the hell are you doing in here?” she demanded.

“We heard screaming,” Cho explained. “We thought maybe the killer managed to get past us.”

“You heard -” Lisbon said with sudden alarm. “I thought the cameras didn’t have sound.” _What else have you heard, and why didn’t I know about it?_ she thought.

“Just the interior cameras,” Cho said. “The exterior ones we put in have sound, and you were screaming pretty loud.”

“Oh.” Lisbon hoped they hadn’t been that loud earlier. She didn’t think so, but had no way of knowing unless she asked - and she certainly wasn’t going to do that. She looked at Jane who was still hugging his knees to his chest and staring straight ahead. His breathing was better, but he was shivering. “Well, sorry about that, but it was a false alarm. You should get out of here.”

“Why were you screaming?” Cho wanted to know.

“Um…”

“My fault,” Jane said, hollowly. “Sorry. It was - it was a nightmare. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lisbon said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Seriously,” she said, turning back to Cho and Frenetti, “you guys need to clear out. The last thing we need is for the cameras to come back on and blow our whole cover. Go.”

They left, turning off the light as they went.

“Are you alright?” Lisbon asked as soon as she heard the front door close. Jane nodded. “You sure? You don’t seem alright.”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

“I could use a drink,” he said.

“Okay, let me get dressed and we’ll -”

“We can’t,” he interrupted. “What about what you just said – what if the cameras…”

“I just said that to get rid of Cho and Frenetti. The signal’s off, no reason to think it’ll come back on tonight. Come on. We’ll go downstairs and have a drink. And if the killer wants to watch, well, then he can watch us having a drink.”

They got dressed and headed downstairs. They kept the lights off, not because Lisbon was worried about the killer, but more because she didn’t want Cho and the others to know that they were up.

They sat at the kitchen island, and Lisbon poured the whiskey. Jane’s hand when he lifted his glass was still a little unsteady.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, without much hope.

“No,” he said, swallowing the whiskey in one gulp and pouring himself another. Lisbon sighed and sipped her own drink.

“I thought the nightmares better with me beside you.”

Jane didn’t answer. They drank in silence. Never more than in that moment did Lisbon wish she could read his mind.

“Do you think I’ve blown it?” he asked finally.

“No. The signal isn’t even on.”

“The cameras aren’t the only way the killer could be watching. What if he decided to watch the house tonight? Making plans to take us?”

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow.”

She left him in the kitchen an hour later, and went back up to bed alone. Nothing she said convinced him to come with her, and, eventually, she had to let it go. But even after she crawled back into bed, she lay awake for some time. She hated that he was pulling away again. After everything they had been through she had thought that maybe…

She knew he was trying, that he'd opened up to her more in the last few weeks than in all the years she'd known him, but he was still hiding behind walls. She understood about walls, about how hard it was to tear them down, but it didn’t make her hate it any less.

* * *

He still wasn’t there when she woke the next morning. She tried not to let it bother her.

She found him cooking breakfast. His smile was a little less blindingly sunny than usual, but he seemed normal otherwise.

The signal hadn’t gone on yet, which was unusual for a Sunday, but Lisbon tried not to read too much into it. They ate breakfast, then read together on the couch for a while, cuddled up and sipping their respective tea and coffee. Still nothing.

Lisbon texted Van Pelt around noon.

[Anything?]

[No boss. No signal and no activity on the street.]

[Ok, keep me updated.]

[Sure.]

They spent the rest of the day doing small things around the house, keeping to the schedule. When they finally turned in, Lisbon was officially worried. The signal had remained off all day. It could just be that he was getting ready to make his move, but her gut told her there was more to it than that. If he was plotting to take them, wouldn’t he want to keep an even closer eye on their movements?

She didn’t mention it to Jane, but she could see that he was also concerned. They lay down together and waited. Eventually, Lisbon drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She woke the next day before her alarm. Jane was already up, and she could hear the shower running. She sat up. There were no messages on her phone.

The shower shut off, and a little later she heard a hair dryer running. She almost laughed. She had never been awake for Jane’s work-morning routine before. On the weekends, he let his hair air dry - the curls a little more erratic, a little less coiffed (but only a little). She should have guessed he was more particular about how he looked at work. She guessed that was partly her fault - she was the one who had told him he needed to clean up if he was going to be spending time at the CBI. Not that Jane wasn’t vain - he was a showman, first and foremost after all, of course he was vain.

He emerged sometime later, towel slung low on his hips. He paused, noticing she was awake. She looked him over, with no attempt to hide her appraisal. A roguish smile spread over his face, and for the first time since the other night, he finally looked like himself again.

She got out of bed and pressed a kiss to his lips, hands sliding across his bare flesh. She slapped his towel-clad ass as she went past him into the bathroom. His low chuckle followed her as she closed the door and began her own morning routine.

The morning briefing was a somber one. Everyone was concerned about what the signal going dark could mean. Speculation varied, but until they had definitive proof that they were blown, Manderley wanted them to keep up appearances.

Jane followed Lisbon to her office after.

“It’s my fault,” he said heavily, taking a seat on her couch.

“You don’t know that,” she said.

“What else could it be?”

“Maybe we were wrong about the pregnancy thing? Maybe the trigger was something else?”

“No,” he shook his head, “that was it, I’m sure of it.”

“No one saw anyone watching the house from the street that night, and the cameras never came on. If we are blown, it might not have anything to do with Cho and Frenetti coming in guns blazing.”

“He wouldn’t necessarily have watched from a car. He could have parked somewhere and been on foot.”

“Cho and the others still would have noticed someone out for a 3AM stroll.”

“Maybe.”

“Jane. Try not to worry about it, please. Let’s just stick to the plan, and see what happens.”

“Okay.” He got up from the couch and started to move toward her as if to kiss her ‘goodbye’, paused, looked around, gave her a strained smile instead, and left.

* * *

Lisbon was looking over the case files again, hoping to find some detail - anything - that might explain what they had missed. She looked up when Van Pelt knocked on her open door.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking in Van Pelt’s demeanor.

“Grimes just called,” Van Pelt said.

“Isn’t Grimes on Jane’s detail today?” Lisbon asked. Van Pelt nodded, and Lisbon felt her stomach clench. “What?” she asked, standing up from her desk without even realizing she was doing it. “What happened?”

“Jane’s missing. He took a customer on a test drive and never came back.”

“How is that possible? Weren’t they following him?”

“He said the customer was driving erratically, and they lost them.”

“But the cars all have tracking devices - can’t they find it?”

“They did,” Van Pelt said. Lisbon’s heart felt like it was in her throat, her stomach twisted into knots. “The car was abandoned, no sign of Jane or the customer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a nice long chapter tonight in case I don't have time tomorrow. Of course, now I realize that means I'm leaving you with another big cliffhanger... oops. *Saunters off to have a nice evil laugh over in the corner*


	10. Anne

Jane woke slowly. His head was pounding and felt too heavy to lift - it wobbled on his neck like a badly balanced spinning plate on a stick. He licked his lips, trying to work some moisture into his dry mouth.

“You’re awake,” a voice said and he jerked away from it only to realize he was cuffed to a chair and couldn’t actually go that far. He tried to look for who had spoken, but his vision was blurry and the lighting was dim. He could only make out a vague shape. 

The voice had sounded female - low, but with a slight lilt. Jane blinked at the fuzzy figure, trying to get his eyes to focus.

“Sorry about the drugs - couldn’t be helped. We needed you… compliant.”

His vision was beginning to sharpen and adjust to the dimness, and, at last, he could make out an attractive brunette with light blue eyes. It was the customer who had asked for a test drive of the Bugatti. Jane had known there was something off with her, but he had put it down to the fact that she clearly couldn’t afford any of the cars they offered, and only wanted a test drive for fun. Most of the other sales employees wouldn’t even touch a lookie-loo like her, but Jane didn’t mind giving people a taste of the good life if they wanted it. And he was a good enough salesman that the management let him do whatever he wanted.

“If you want the car,” he said hoarsely, “just take it. I really don’t care.”

“Oh Patrick, I don’t want the car,” she said with a giggle.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “I thought you might say that.” He looked around, trying to figure out where he was - taking in any details that might give him a clue - but his brain still felt like mush and wasn’t operating at peak condition.

He gathered that it was likely underground given the lack of windows and the slightly damp, musty smell. He was in a room within the room. The walls of his cage were clear - some kind of acrylic probably. There was a door with a keypad lock and a slot just big enough to pass a tray of food. The room was furnished with a bed, two bedside tables, a dresser, and two chairs - including the one he was currently occupying. He craned his head to look behind him and saw a shower head in one corner over a drain and a curtain which could be pulled around it for privacy. Next to that was a toilet which also had a curtain that could hide it from view, as well as a sink with a mirror above it. Everything someone would need for a long stay. Beyond the clear walls were cement ones. The woman was sitting just outside the cage, and there was an empty chair beside her.

“I put the key to the cuffs in your pocket,” she said. Jane twisted his hand around to reach into his pocket and, sure enough, there was a key. He managed to get it into the lock and freed his right hand. He released his other hand and rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had dug into his flesh.

He stood shakily, his head still pounding. He walked around the room, ignoring his captor for the moment. He pulled on the door and was not surprised to find it locked. He examined the keypad but didn’t touch it.

“Can I get you something?” she asked.

“Tea,” he answered at once, “with milk, please.”

She stood and left through a door in the cement wall. He caught a glimpse of stairs going up before she shut the door behind her.

Jane went to the sink and splashed water on his face. He looked around for a towel, but didn’t see one. He went to the dresser and opened the top drawer. There he found two fluffy white towels and a few hand towels. He pulled out one of the hand towels and dried his face. He opened the next drawer and found a neat row of boxers next to a collection of very nice women's lingerie. He picked up one of the bras and checked the tag - it was Lisbon’s size. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him, and he hastily put the bra down and shut the drawer. He didn’t open any others - if they were full of clothes in his and Lisbon’s sizes, he didn’t want to know.

He heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later the door swung open to reveal the woman coming back with a steaming cup of tea in her hand. She slid open the door to the slot and set the tea there, then went back to her chair. Jane picked it up and sniffed it dubiously.

“No more drugs,” she said. “I promise.”

He took a sip - not bad. He sat back down in the chair he’d been cuffed to and looked at her while he sipped the tea.

“Is your name really ‘Anne’?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And your partner? What is his name?”

“Eric.”

“Where is he?”

“At work. He’ll be here later.”

“And then what?”

She shrugged. “And then we’ll figure out how to get Teresa. You were easy - she’s a little more difficult.” Jane felt his stomach twist at the idea of Anne and Eric getting hold of Lisbon. “Usually we would take both of you at the same time, from the house. But we couldn’t do that for obvious reasons.”

“You know we’re not a real couple, right?” he said. “You abduct and kill couples. Lisbon and I aren’t a couple.”

“That’s a lie.”

“No, it’s not. We were undercover. We work for the CBI. This whole thing was a set-up to catch you.”

“Yes, I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that you love each other. That you belong together.”

Jane didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained silent. He hoped Lisbon didn’t do anything stupid like run off alone and try to find him. He didn’t think she would - she was a very level-headed person. They probably already knew he’d been taken, and would be expecting an abduction attempt on Lisbon next. So long as she stayed at the CBI, she’d be safe. As for what happened to him when Eric and Anne failed to get Lisbon… Well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Can I ask you a question?” Anne said.

“Sure.”

“Is Teresa really pregnant?”

“No,” he said. “You’re relieved,” he continued, noting her reaction. “Why?”

“Pregnancy ruins everything,” she said darkly. _Interesting_.

There was a noise from above them - like a door slamming.

“Eric’s home,” Anne said with a smile. She bounced up off her chair. “Be good, Patrick, or you’ll get no supper,” she said before leaving him alone once more.

He went over to the door and examined the keypad again. He tried a few numbers, but nothing happened. He thought about trying to take the panel off, maybe messing with the wires, see if he could short circuit something, but he wasn’t sure how long he would be alone. Better to leave it for now.

He checked the walls, looking carefully at where they joined, testing for any weak spots. The cage was solidly built. He noticed a book on one of the bedside tables and he picked it up and looked at the cover: it was the same book he’d been reading at home. He put it back and laid down on the bed, crossing his ankles and resting his linked hands on his stomach. He might as well be comfortable while he waited to be murdered.

* * *

They had no leads. The woman who had taken Jane wore a hat and large sunglasses, so they didn’t even have a very clear picture of her, despite the fact that she was on the cameras. No one else at the dealership had spoken to her. The alley where they found the car was in an abandoned industrial area, and no one had seen anything there either.

Lisbon felt panic bubbling up inside, but she pushed it down. They wouldn’t kill Jane, not right away. They wanted both of them, and they wouldn’t do anything to Jane until they had her too. She hoped.

She could kick herself for not thinking about a partnership before this. It made sense. There was no way the petite woman who had taken Jane would be capable of abducting and killing two people at once. She must have a partner - likely the man they had seen at the bar - which meant their profile had been off from the beginning. They should have been looking for a couple.

“Anything?” she asked Van Pelt as she approached her desk. Van Pelt shook her head.

“I’m pulling the data from the tracking device that was in the car, but it just shows the route they took to the alley - nothing useful.”

Lisbon peered over her shoulder at the computer which showed a map with a highlighted route on it. Van Pelt was right: nothing useful.

“I’ve been trying to think back to our date night,” Lisbon said. “Do you remember seeing a woman watching us also? Maybe she was in the cafe where we had dessert? The blond guy didn’t follow us in, remember? I was wondering if maybe that was because she was on us.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Van Pelt said slowly. “I can’t remember anyone fitting her description, though. Sorry.”

“Never mind. It probably wouldn’t help anyway.”

“Maybe Rigsby remembers something?” suggested Van Pelt.

“Yeah, maybe,” Lisbon said without much hope. “Jane would remember. If he were… he would remember.”

“We’ll get him back, boss.”

“Yeah.” Lisbon’s phone rang, and she stepped away from Van Pelt’s desk to answer it. As she looked at the caller id, her heart leapt - it was Jane. “Jane?” she said, hitting the answer button and shoving it against her ear.

“Hello Teresa,” said a female voice. “Patrick can’t come to the phone right now.”

“Where is he?” Lisbon asked quietly. She moved a little further away from the bustle of the bullpen, seeking privacy.

“He’s safe - for now.”

“What do you want?”

“You know what we want, Teresa. We want you.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Then Patrick dies,” the voice said simply. Lisbon’s stomach clenched. Her mind was racing. She had to find a way to get to Jane _and_ lead her team to their location.

“OK, OK, just wait,” she said. “I can’t just leave - someone will notice. You have to give me a little time.”

“You have half an hour. I’ll text you an address - be there alone and unarmed or Patrick dies.”

Lisbon stood another second, listening to silence as the line went dead. She jumped when her phone buzzed, but it was just a text message with an address. It was going to take her almost half an hour just to get there, which meant she needed to move fast. She thought about going to Hightower and explaining, but rejected the idea almost immediately. They would never let her go alone and if something happened to Jane…

She couldn’t finish the thought.

“Van Pelt,” she said, striding over to her desk once more. “What kind of range does this tracker have?”

“Pretty wide - I mean, you couldn’t leave the state, but otherwise it’s good. Why?”

“Could someone else detect the signal?”

“Possibly, if they were somewhat tech-savvy, and paranoid enough to check for that sort of thing.”

“Let’s assume they are.”

“Boss, what are you thinking?” Van Pelt asked with a frown.

“I just got a call from the woman who took Jane.”

“You what?!”

“SHHHH!” Lisbon hissed, looking around to see if anyone had heard them. “You can’t tell anyone. They want me to meet them alone.”

“But-”

“If I don’t go, Jane dies.”

The two women stared at each other for a moment. Finally, Van Pelt nodded.

“OK,” she said. “I won’t say anything until you’re gone, but please tell me you have a plan.”

Lisbon cocked her head at the tracker that was still hooked up to Van Pelt’s computer.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Van Pelt said. “Where the hell are you going to hide it?”

“First things first: I need you to turn it off. At least one of our killers is tech-savvy - I don’t want them to detect the signal. I’ll turn it back on after I find Jane.”

“This is insane,” Van Pelt muttered as she unplugged the tracker and switched it off. _Now,_ thought Lisbon, _where to hide it?_ “Are those lined?” Van Pelt asked, indicating Lisbon’s trousers.

“Yes,” she replied, unsure where Van Pelt was going with this.

“Come with me,” Van Pelt grabbed the tracker, a pair of scissors, and her arm and dragged her towards the women’s restrooms. She checked that they were alone before turning to Lisbon. “Pull out your pocket.” Lisbon did so, and Van Pelt used the scissors to cut a hole big enough for the tracker to fit through. “There. Try that,” she said, handing the tracker to Lisbon. Lisbon pushed the pocket back in place, then slipped the tracker in and through the hole. She felt it fall down her leg, and land at the bottom of the cuff, resting between the lining and the outer fabric.

“What do you think?” she asked, turning her leg toward Van Pelt.

“Looks good. Unless they frisk you.”

“If they do, it won’t matter where it is - they’ll find it no matter what. At least this has a chance.”

“I guess. I still hate this plan.”

“I know, and I’m sorry to put you in this position, but… it’s Jane.”

“Yeah.” They were silent for a moment.

“I better get going,” Lisbon said finally. “If anyone asks where I am…”

“I’ll stall.”

“Thanks.”

Lisbon was turning to go when Van Pelt hugged her fiercely.

“Be careful,” she said. She pulled away and Lisbon saw tears in her eyes. “I’ll be watching for the signal.”

“Thanks, Grace. I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

She broke the speed limit more than once trying to get to the location on time, but she made it. It was another deserted alley, much like the one where they had found the abandoned Bugatti. She was the first one there, and she stepped out of the car and moved away from it, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. She wasn’t wearing a jacket - wanted to be sure they could see she was unarmed.

She heard a vehicle approaching and she raised her hands above her head. A van pulled in and stopped. She moved toward it, hands still in the air, and the back door slid open. A woman stepped out with a gun trained on Lisbon.

“Don’t move,” she said. Lisbon stopped and held still. The driver of the van got out and moved toward her. It was the blond man they had noticed watching them at the restaurant. He was holding some kind of device like the wands security used to check for weapons. He waved it over her whole body, starting from the top and working down. She hoped it was looking for electronic signals and not metal, or she was in trouble. She held her breath as it passed over her ankle, but nothing happened. When he finished, he pulled her phone out of her pocket and dropped it on the ground.

Satisfied, he nodded to the woman and got back into the van. The woman waved the gun, indicating that Lisbon should get in the back with her. The door slid shut as a bag was pulled over her head, and Lisbon prayed she hadn’t just made a huge mistake.


	11. Eric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to tag for this, but there is a brief mention of incest, so just be warned.

It was hard to tell how long they drove, but Lisbon thought it felt like at least 45 minutes. At last, they arrived and the woman guided her out of the van and into a building.

“Down,” she said, taking Lisbon’s hand and setting it on a railing. Lisbon stepped down cautiously step after step until the woman told her to stop. She heard the rattle of keys, and then a door in front of her being opened. “Forward,” said the woman, pushing Lisbon through the door.

“Lisbon!” said a voice she recognized.

“Jane?”

“Anne, don’t do this, please,” Jane pleaded. “Let her go.”

“Step back,” the woman - Anne? - said. Lisbon was prodded forward with the muzzle of the gun and she stumbled a little. She thought Jane made a noise of protest, but then she heard beeping, like someone inputting a code, and the hiss of a release. “Get in,” she said, shoving Lisbon forward. She stumbled worse this time, and would have fallen, but arms caught her. Arms she knew… arms she clung to. She heard the door shut and lock behind her, and she pulled off the hood and looked up into Jane’s eyes.

“You idiot,” he said. “Why would you do something so stupid?” His words were harsh, but she could read the fear in his eyes.

“You’re the one who got himself abducted - I’m just trying to keep you alive.”

His eyes softened and he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Welcome to your new home, Teresa,” said Anne, drawing their attention back to their captors. The blond man was sitting off to one side, watching them. Anne was still standing at the door to their cage. “Can I get you something? Dinner won’t be for a little while, but I could get you something to drink. Tea? Coffee? Water?”

“Water,” Lisbon said mostly just to move this along. The sooner they were alone, the sooner she could turn on the tracker.

“Absolutely,” Anne bowed her head. “Patrick? Would you like more tea?”

“No thank you.”

She bowed her head again, which Lisbon found strange. _Like we were guests in a fancy house,_ she thought. Anne went through the door and up the stairs.

Lisbon took in her surroundings, trying to ignore the man staring at them from just outside their cage. Jane, however, approached the wall nearest him.

“You must be Eric,” he said. The man nodded once. “Nice to meet you Eric. Of course, you know myself and Teresa, you’ve been watching us for some time now.” Another nod. “You like watching. It lets you live vicariously through your subjects, doesn’t it?”

Anne returned with a glass of water which she set in a small slot in one wall, before going to sit next to Eric.

“What about you, Anne?” Jane asked, turning to her. “Do you like watching also? Or do you leave that to Eric?”

Anne smiled widely and Lisbon shivered. There was madness in that smile.

“Oh, I like to watch,” she said. “Watching is allowed.”

“Watching but not touching?” Jane mused.

“No. Touching is definitely not allowed. Not for us, right Eric?” she turned to Eric who nodded without meeting her eyes.

“I see,” Jane said. “What did your father do to you when he found out you had been doing a lot more than just touching? What did he have to say about his daughter getting pregnant by her own brother? Did he punish you?”

Lisbon could see that Jane had struck a nerve.

“Half-brother,” Anne said coldly.

“Ah yes, of course, that makes it all right then,” Jane said. “It’s not really incest if he’s only your half-brother, is that it?”

“Jane,” Lisbon murmured warningly.

“You’re very clever, Patrick,” said Anne. “Not clever enough to avoid my needle in your neck, but still… clever.”

“Yes, well - even a clever man can be caught off-guard.” He winked at Lisbon who couldn’t help but smile in return. Trust Jane to be a cheeky bastard even when in captivity and under threat of death.

“I’d better start dinner if we’re to eat on time,” Anne said, standing to leave. “Eric will keep you company. Try not to tease him too much - he can have a bit of a temper sometimes.”

After she left, Eric stood up and moved toward the cage, staring at Lisbon. She backed away instinctively, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn’t like the intense look in his eye, or the way his gaze roamed greedily over her body. Jane obviously didn’t like it either, and he moved to block Lisbon from view.

Eric looked at Jane. They were almost the same height, both blond with light eyes - though Eric’s were sunny-sky blue to Jane’s stormy-sea blue-green. Eric was conventionally attractive, but, just as Lisbon had noticed at the restaurant, there was something off about him. Jane, of course, was ridiculously handsome - though Lisbon might be a tad biased. Eric cocked his head and smiled at Jane, and Lisbon didn’t like his smile any better than Anne’s.

“She’s scared,” Eric said, and it was the first time Lisbon had heard him speak. “You should comfort her.” Jane glanced back at her.

“Lisbon’s a big girl, she can take care of herself. Certainly doesn’t need me to protect her.”

Eric’s smile faded.

“She likes to put on a front,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need comforting. Even strong women need to be held sometimes.” He sat back down in his chair. Lisbon was angry to find that she did want Jane to hold her just then, but she would die before she admitted it. It wasn’t even because she was scared, necessarily (she was, but that was beside the point). She wanted to wrap her own arms around him as much as she wanted to feel his around her. Mutual comfort.

She also wanted Eric to leave so she could turn on the tracker. Doing what he wanted didn’t seem like a good way to achieve that, so she went to pick up the glass of water instead. She swallowed gratefully, soothing her dry throat. She went to sit on the bed, thought better of it, and sat in one of the two chairs instead. She noticed the other chair had handcuffs on it, and she ran a more critical eye over Jane, trying to see if he’d been hurt at all. He seemed fine, but there were other ways to hurt someone than physical. She looked at his neck, remembering what Anne had said about a needle. She must have drugged him when they went for the test drive, before they moved him to the second vehicle. He didn’t seem any the worse for wear, though - eyes bright and sharp as ever. Whatever they gave him must have worn off.

She looked at the glass of water in her hand and frowned. But if Anne had drugged it, it was too late now - she’d already drunk nearly half. What would be the purpose of drugging her now, anyway?

Jane sat in the other chair, and they looked at each other. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but not while they had an audience. There was a huge difference between knowing that someone may be watching via camera and having them actually physically in the room staring at you.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Jane said.

“They would have killed you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Now they’ll kill us both.”

“We don’t want to kill you,” Eric said. “We just want to keep you.”

“Wonderful,” Jane rolled his eyes, “we’re pets to serial killers.”

“More like permanent guests,” Eric said with another chilling smile.

“Look,” Jane turned to him, “I get that we’re stand-ins for you and Anne - you can’t be together the way you want so you use us to live out your twisted fantasies - but your father’s dead now, he can’t hurt you anymore. I personally think it’s creepy, but hey, what do I know? If you two want to be together, just be together; stop dragging other people into your sordid little soap opera.”

“Jane,” Lisbon murmured. Eric’s smile was gone and he was starting to look mad. Remembering what Anne had said about Eric’s temper, Lisbon didn’t think they should be pressing any sore spots just now.

“Sure it’s twisted,” Jane continued, “wanting to have sex with your sister, but again - who am I to judge?” Eric got up and walked toward the cage menacingly.

“Jane!” Lisbon hissed. “Stop poking the bear!”

“I’m just being honest,” Jane said innocently. “Besides, what’s he going to do to us? In case you haven’t noticed there’s a very solid wall between us and him.”

Eric stopped and glared at them. Then he smiled again.

“I’d better help Anne with dinner,” he said and left.

“Well that was creepy,” Lisbon said after a moment.

“Everything about this is creepy.”

Lisbon was looking around.

“Do you think there are cameras in here?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Why?”

She leaned forward and motioned for him to do the same.

“I have a tracker in my pants,” Lisbon whispered in his ear.

“Why Lisbon, you naughty girl,” Jane whispered back.

“Stop that,” she said, “we don’t have time. I need to turn it on, but I can’t if they’re watching.”

“Better to wait. They have to sleep some time.”

They leaned back.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“No lingering effects from the drugs?”

“Just a little headache. It’s mostly gone now.”

“Do you know what she gave you?”

“No idea. One second I was fastening my seatbelt, and the next she was stabbing me in the neck. I went out pretty fast after that.”

Lisbon reached over and took his hand.

“We should have known we were dealing with two people. Much easier to subdue a couple with two rather than one,” she said.

“The thought actually had crossed my mind.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t tell you all my theories.”

“That was kind of an important one.”

“Yes, well, hindsight being 20/20 and all that.”

Footsteps alerted them of the return of their captors, and Lisbon released his hand. Eric held the door for Anne who was carrying a tray with two plates on it. She slid it through the slot which was just wide enough. Jane went to get it, then looked around with a frown. There was no table. He shrugged and went to set the tray down on the bed.

“What would you both like to drink?” Anne asked. “Wine?”

“Scotch if you have it,” Jane said. Lisbon frowned at him. “What?” he said in response to her look. “Might as well.”

“Sorry,” said Anne, shaking her head, “we don’t keep hard liquor in the house. It’s either wine or iced tea.”

“Wine, then,” Jane said.

“Teresa?” Anne asked. Lisbon looked at Jane who cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Oh all right, wine for me as well,” she said. Anne disappeared and then reappeared with two plastic cups.

“I apologize we can’t give you anything nicer, but glass breaks so easily and we wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Lisbon looked at the plates on the tray and realized they were paper. There was also no silverware.

They ate in silence while Anne and Eric watched from their chairs. Lisbon sat on the bed with her back to them, while Jane sat in his chair seemingly unbothered by their audience. It was a simple meal of chicken breast, green beans and mashed potatoes, but it was cooked well and Lisbon surprised herself by eating all of it. She sipped the wine somewhat dubiously, but it was a nice red and went down easy.

When they finished, Jane took their plates and the tray, and put them back in the slot. Anne came to collect them after he moved away.

“More wine?” she offered. Jane shrugged and went to get his cup. He collected Lisbon’s also.

“None for me, thank you,” she said.

“Can I get you something else?” Anne asked, picking up the cups.

“No, thanks,” said Lisbon.

“Iced tea?”

“No, thank you.”

“Hot tea?”

“No.”

“Coffee?”

“No. Thank you. I really don’t want anything else,” Lisbon said. Anne’s polite smile became brittle.

“You must have something Teresa. You can’t let Patrick drink alone.”

Lisbon exchanged a look with Jane. She didn’t like where this was going.

“On second thought,” said Jane, “I don’t think I’ll have any more wine either.”

The smile slid right off Anne’s face.

“But you will,” she said darkly. “You will both have something. Now what will it be?”

“You can’t make us,” Lisbon said.

“Maybe not, but Eric can.”

Lisbon turned to look at Eric who was now pointing a gun at them.

“These walls are not bulletproof, Teresa,” said Anne. “Either choose a beverage or get shot.”

She exchanged another look with Jane. What could they do?

“Iced tea,” she said finally.

“Patrick?” Anne asked.

“Same,” he said.

Anne disappeared again, returning with two cups once more.

Jane was slower in going to fetch them. He eyed them suspiciously.

“I promise they’re not poisoned,” said Anne. Jane looked up at her and narrowed his eyes. Anne huffed a sigh. “If we were going to kill you we wouldn’t have bothered feeding you a nice meal.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Jane asked. “Even a condemned man gets a last meal.”

“It’s up to you: either drink the tea and take your chances, or get shot.”

Jane handed a cup to Lisbon. Their eyes met and Lisbon could read Jane’s fear once more. She wasn’t happy about the situation either, but what choice did they have? She took the cup and took a sip.

“Drink up,” Anne sang.

Lisbon closed her eyes and tipped the cup back, swallowing until it was gone. She thought there was a slight aftertaste - something bitter. She set the empty cup on the bedside table and sat on the bed. Her head swam, vision blurring. Her limbs felt heavy. Jane stumbled toward the bed, and sat with his head in his hands. Lisbon couldn’t keep her eyes open. She swayed then fell sideways across the bed and she was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ran into a few problems while editing the next chapter and realized I needed to expand and rework a few things. (And by expand, I mean, I'm writing a whole extra chapter!) So, the good news is that you will be getting more story, but the bad news is that it is going to take me a little more time before the next update. Hopefully it won't be too long, I've written a great deal of it tonight, and I think I will definitely finish tomorrow and then it's just a matter of editing and making sure it fits with the rest of the narrative. You guys are all so great and so supportive, I just want to make sure I'm delivering the best story to my capabilities.  
> Thank you for understanding!


	12. In Captivity

She came to slowly. At first, she didn’t remember where she was. She knew she was in bed, and that she was curled up next to a warm body.

_Jane_ , she thought. _That’s right, we’re at the house, undercover._ But there was something else nagging at her…

She sat up suddenly as the last 24 hours came back in a rush.

It was pitch black.

Lisbon tried to look around, her eyes wide as they would go, but she couldn’t see a thing. Her heart was racing, breath coming in great gasps.

“Jane,” she said hoarsely, groping for the figure beside her. She found his shoulder and started shaking him. “Jane, wake up!”

She heard him groan and thanked God he was alive.

She reached out into the darkness, trying to feel for the bedside table. There had been a lamp there, right? Her hand collided with something lamp-like, almost knocking it over but catching it at the last second. She found the switch and nearly blinded herself when she turned it on.

Jane was rubbing his eyes.

“What-?” he croaked.

“Jane, are you all right?” She helped him sit up.

“Yeah, I think so. Where-?” He blinked at their surroundings. “Oh, right.”

“I think they’re gone,” said Lisbon, looking at the empty chairs just outside their cage. “They’re probably asleep, it must be the middle of the night. I need to turn on the…” she trailed off as she realized that she wasn’t wearing her clothes. Cold dread poured into her stomach. She was in a black lace negligee that left nothing to the imagination. Jane’s bottom half was covered by the blankets, but his chest was bare. Eric and Anne had undressed (and in Lisbon’s case, redressed) them and put them in bed together. _Like we were toy dolls_ , thought Lisbon feeling queasy.

Jane was also taking in her state of dress, but when his eyes met hers they were angry, not aroused.

“Did he touch you?” he asked. Then: “Stupid question, of course he did, I mean did he…”

Lisbon shook her head.

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ll kill him. Her too.”

“Jane, we don’t have time for this. Do you see where they put my clothes?”

She looked around in the dim light. What if they took them away? What if they found the tracker?

“Over there,” Jane pointed at a laundry basket. It was on the other side of the cage wall.

“Shit,” Lisbon swore. She climbed out of bed, self-consciously pulling at the short hem of the negligee. At least she was wearing underwear.

The basket was next to the door with the keypad, which meant it was also close to the slot where Anne had passed them their dinner. Lisbon dropped down beside it and carefully reached her arm through. Stretched as far as she could, she was still inches from the basket.

“Dammit!” she said quietly, resting her forehead against the acrylic wall.

“Let me try,” said Jane behind her. He was naked except for his boxers. Lisbon got up and he took her place, feeding this arm through the slot and stretching out. His fingers reached farther than hers, but still not far enough. “Wait,” he said, getting up again. “I have an idea.” He went over to the dresser and opened a drawer. He pulled out a bra.

“Is that…?” Lisbon started to ask.

“Best not to think about it,” he cut her off. He began ripping at a seam with his teeth before working the underwire out. He did the same with the other, then twisted the two pieces of metal together, forming one end into a hook.

“Good thinking, MacGyver,” said Lisbon, impressed.

“Please, MacGyver’s got nothing on me,” he said with a wink as he returned to the slot.

But before he could attempt to snag the basket with the makeshift hook, they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He scrambled back up, throwing a panicked look at Lisbon.

“Hide it!” she hissed as she ran back to the bed. He followed, and they both pulled the blankets up so they were covered. At the last second, Jane tucked the metal hook in his pillowcase.

The overhead lights came on, throwing everything into sharp relief as Anne and Eric came through the door.

“Good morning!” Anne sang out cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

Lisbon glared at her, the blankets clutched to her chest with one arm, the other under the covers between herself and Jane.

“Oh yes,” said Jane. “Very well. You must give me the name of your dealer.”

Anne smiled at him, but it was not a friendly smile. Eric stood just behind her with a blank expression, like he was a machine awaiting a command.

“It’s important to get a good night’s sleep, Patrick,” she continued. “Someday perhaps, it will no longer be necessary for us to use such crude manipulations. Someday, if you’re good, we will trust you to spend the night alone, without having to rely on chemicals. For now, I’m afraid it is necessary. Eric and I cannot watch you 24/7 after all. What if something were to happen to you? We want to keep you safe.”

“‘Safe’?” Jane repeated. “You’ve drugged us and threatened us with a gun – I don’t know about Lisbon, but that doesn’t make me feel safe.” Anne’s eyes narrowed.

“You talk too much,” she said in a flat tone. Lisbon found Jane’s hand under the covers and gave it a warning squeeze. Jane shrugged, but didn’t let go of her hand.

“So I’ve been told,” he said.

“What do you want?” Lisbon asked before Jane could say anything else to antagonize their captors.

“For you to be happy, Teresa,” Anne replied. “You and Patrick belong together; we could both see that from the beginning. But there was something keeping you from each other. Something… sad.”

Lisbon was shocked. _They picked up on that just from watching us together on the cameras?_

“When we saw the agents enter the house a few nights ago we realized what was going on.”

“So you were watching that night,” Jane interrupted.

“Yes.”

“How?” Lisbon wanted to know.

“Camera in the streetlamp across the street,” Eric said, a brief smile flashing over his face. “I guess you missed that one.” He sounded smug.

“We were preparing to take you,” Anne continued, “watching the neighborhood to determine when there was the least activity. It was just luck that we caught the agents entering the house with guns drawn, and returning later with them holstered. We followed them with the camera to the van. It was easy to put the pieces together after that. Eric didn’t want to take you. He thought it was too risky, didn’t you Eric?” Eric nodded, his eyes on the floor. “But I knew we had to rescue you. It was so obvious you wanted this to be real, that you wanted to be together _for real._ And I figured if the relationship was ‘pretend’ so must the pregnancy be as well. Which meant we could keep you.”

“What happened to the baby, Anne?” Jane asked quietly. “What did your father do when he found out you were pregnant with Eric’s child?”

For a moment, Anne’s face went entirely blank, like she was made of porcelain. Then it shattered and Lisbon saw real grief there – the first glimpse of humanity she had seen from either of them. Almost instantly it turned ugly – twisted into an expression of rage so all-consuming, Lisbon found herself clutching Jane’s hand to keep from retreating to the farthest corner of their cage and cowering there.

And then, just as suddenly, the rage was gone and the pleasantly blank expression had returned.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said. “Pregnancy ruins relationships. It breaks up families. But you don’t have to worry about it because Teresa isn’t pregnant. That was just part of the ruse to trap us. And now that we have you, you don’t have to pretend anymore. You can be together, for real. We’ll keep you safe here, away from the world that wants to keep you apart. You can be happy. Forever.”

* * *

Eric kept watch from his chair while Anne went upstairs to prepare breakfast. Lisbon and Jane remained where they were, still holding hands under the covers. She didn’t feel much like talking, and even Jane seemed to have run out of things to say.

Soon, however, Lisbon began to fidget ever so slightly.

“What is it?” Jane asked her quietly. Lisbon looked down at her lap, embarrassed.

“I have to pee,” she muttered. Jane glanced at Eric.

“Here,” he said, releasing her hand and climbing out of bed.

“J-” Lisbon almost called him back, but swallowed the cry. He went to the dresser, opened the third drawer down and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and an oversized sweatshirt. He brought them back to her and held the blanket up so she could change. She thanked him.

Logically, Lisbon knew that Eric had already seen her naked many times, but that didn’t mean she wanted to walk around in a skimpy negligee in front of him. The sweatshirt was obviously meant for Jane and dwarfed her, but she found the extra fabric comforting, and the pants fit perfectly, so she didn’t have to worry about them falling down.

Dressed at last, she stood beside the bed, hesitating.

“What?” Jane asked.

“Um…”

“Toilet’s right there,” he gestured.

“Yeah, a curtain isn’t exactly as private as walls and a door,” she said.

Jane looked at Eric, then at the toilet.

“I could hum a little tune,” he said with just the whisper of a smile on his face. Lisbon wanted to smack him. Jane blinked innocently at her. “Look, I’ll go to the far end of the room and plug my ears. How’s that?” She continued to hesitate. “Lisbon, we don’t really have many other choices here.”

“Fine.” She went to the toilet and turned to see Jane standing at the door with his back to her and his fingers in his ears. She pulled the curtain so it swung around, blocking her from view. She sat down and waited.

“Would you like me to hum?” Jane called loudly after a moment.

“NO. Don’t talk to me.”

A low chuckle echoed around the room. _God, he could be insufferable._

* * *

By the time Lisbon and then Jane had used the facilities, and Jane had gotten dressed in something similar to what Lisbon was wearing, Anne reappeared with breakfast. Lisbon was hungry, and the food looked good, but Anne didn’t put it in the slot right away.

“No breakfast until you have both showered and are properly dressed,” she said, setting the tray on her chair next to Eric and crossing her arms over her chest.

Lisbon was getting really tired of this game. She looked at Jane but couldn’t read his expression. They needed to be alone to try and snag the basket with her pants and the tracker, but it seemed that Eric and Anne were determined to never leave them alone except at night when they would be drugged.

Jane put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. She read that look all right: Trust me. She did trust him, and she reached up to take the hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Fine,” he said, turning away from her to look at Anne.

“There are toiletries in the top drawer of the dresser under the towels,” she said with a nod of approval. Jane went and got what he needed, then went to the corner with the shower head over the drain and pulled the curtain around it. A few moments later his hand appeared with the clothes he had been wearing and dropped them just outside the curtain, before turning on the water.

“What do you consider ‘properly dressed’?” Lisbon asked.

“Well,” Anne said with a shrug, “you’re not going to work, but you should at least put on real clothes – not just sweats.”

Lisbon nodded and crossed to the dresser to look at their options. Jane had asked her to trust him, which meant he had a plan. Obviously, that plan involved doing what Anne wanted for now, so she picked out boxers, jeans, and a sweater for Jane, and something similar for herself.

“I’m putting your clothes right here,” she said, setting the little pile just outside the curtain, and scooping up his discarded clothes. She looked around for a moment, not sure what to do with them.

“I’ll take them,” Anne said, moving to the slot. Lisbon passed them to her, and she dropped them in the basket with their other clothes. How long before she took the basket away? Did she plan on washing the clothes and giving them back? Would the tracker survive a trip through the washing machine? Without the tracker, would the team ever be able to find them?

Grace was probably beating herself up right now for letting Lisbon go alone. She wished she could tell her it wasn’t her fault. She hoped she would still get the chance.

* * *

Once both Jane and Lisbon were clean and dressed, Anne finally passed them their breakfast. Jane looked at the tray with a frown.

“What’s this?” he asked. Lisbon couldn’t see what he was pointing at.

“That is for Teresa,” Anne said simply, taking her seat next to Eric. Jane’s frown deepened.

“What?” Lisbon asked, coming up beside him to see what they were talking about. Next to one of the plates was a small round pill.

“She’s not taking it until you tell me what it is,” Jane said stubbornly.

Lisbon, who had been on birth control since she was 16, put her hand on his arm.

“It’s okay, Jane,” she said. “They don’t want me to get pregnant, remember?” Jane’s face cleared as understanding dawned. She picked up the pill, swallowed it, and gave him a reassuring smile. A new look of concern had spread over his face, and Lisbon could guess the reason: if they were giving her birth control that meant they were expecting them to have sex.

Lisbon swallowed again, the phantom feeling of the pill still in her throat. She went to sit in her chair and Jane brought the tray and joined her.

The food was cold by then, but Anne brought hot tea for Jane and coffee for Lisbon. Lisbon ate what was on her plate, but it was tasteless and there was a feeling like acid in her throat. Even the coffee was bitter and unsatisfying.

“What now?” Jane asked after Anne had taken their empty plates and the tray back.

“Now, you go about your day as you would normally,” she said.

“How exactly are we supposed to do that?”

“What would you do if we weren’t here?”

“I would be trying to escape,” Jane said at once. Lisbon had to admire his boldness. Anne smiled indulgently.

“If I could trust you with tools, I would give you something to build, Patrick. You seem to like working with your hands. Maybe after we’ve gotten to know each other a little better. For now, you and Teresa could read together, like you used to on the couch at home.”

Lisbon glanced at the book on the bedside table.

“What am I supposed to read?” she asked. Anne shrugged.

“You were always reading documents – work related I assume. But I’m sure I could find you something.”

“Never mind,” Lisbon muttered. She didn’t think she could concentrate anyway. It was too weird being on display like this. Jane looked at her and raised his eyebrows. Lisbon shrugged and went over to the bed. She had straightened it while Jane was in the shower, and now settled herself on top of the covers. Jane joined her. He picked up his book while she nestled in against his side just as if they were cuddling on the couch at home. Anne and Eric watched them silently from their chairs. She noticed they maintained a careful distance from each other at all times. Jane was right: Eric and Anne were using her and Jane as vessels for their own desire to be together. Whatever their father had done to punish them for that relationship had clearly left them deeply disturbed. The intensity of their gaze was disconcerting, and after a while Lisbon closed her eyes, though she remained awake and alert.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually Jane put his book down. She wondered if he’d actually been reading or if he’d just been pretending while working through whatever plan he had in mind. She had been wracking her brain trying to come up with something, but hadn’t gotten very far. They needed to find some way to fake drinking the spiked drinks at night; that was the only way they could work on getting out of there without Eric and Anne watching. But how?

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” Jane asked. She quirked an eyebrow at him. _Walk where?_ she thought.

“Okay,” she said. He got up and offered her a hand. Together they walked the perimeter of their cage, hand-in-hand. They did a few loops before Jane stopped directly in front of their audience. He turned her to him, bringing his hands up, one cupping the side of her face, the other holding the back of her head. She looked into his eyes and he leaned down to kiss her gently. She tried to forget where they were, tried to imagine they were outside, enjoying a beautiful sunny day together. The kiss was hesitant, nothing like the fiery kisses from their lovemaking, nor even the sweeter, softer ones stolen here and there. It felt awkward in a way that kissing Jane had never felt awkward.

They broke apart and looked at each other. There was a pinched quality to Jane’s eyes that made Lisbon think he looked stressed. Was he trying to tell her something? If so, she had no idea what it was.

“That wasn’t very convincing, Patrick,” Anne said.

“Sorry if being held captive and having our every move scrutinized doesn’t exactly bring out the romantic in me,” he replied with a roll of his eyes.

They walked a little longer, first in one direction and then the other just to change it up. Lisbon wondered if he was looking for a way out, or trying to determine a weak point. Or maybe he was just walking to pass the time.

After lunch, Jane asked for a deck of cards and they spent the rest of the afternoon playing poker. When they got bored of that, Jane did card tricks. Eric and Anne watched it all, but they did not seem impressed. Lisbon wondered what they were waiting for. What did they want from them?

It was difficult to tell the passage of time with no windows to track the sun, but soon Anne left to start dinner, and Lisbon was relieved to think that this horribly strange day was coming to a close. She was sure Jane had a plan; she just hoped she would be able to do her part when the time came. Whenever they had tried to talk quietly to each other Eric had threatened them with the gun.

“I’m assuming we’re to be drugged again,” Jane said after they had finished dinner.

“Not quite yet,” Anne said coyly. “First, you should change for bed. We did it for you last night, but it’s really better if you do it.”

Jane went to the dresser and pulled out sweats.

“Not those,” Anne objected. “Something… sexy.”

Jane frowned at her, before looking worriedly at Lisbon.

“It’s okay,” Lisbon assured him, going to the dresser to look. “Better this than them doing it for us.” He nodded and stepped back to let her choose. She didn’t like her options – everything was either lace and see-through or incredibly skimpy – but she had meant what she said: bad choices were better than no choices at all. She settled on a red silk slip. The color wasn’t ideal, but at least it was opaque. She went behind the shower curtain to change. When she emerged, she took her armful of clothes and passed them to Anne who was waiting by the slot. Jane stripped down to his boxers and did the same. She dumped all the clothes in the basket which was now almost full. Whatever Jane was going to do, he better do it tonight.

They hovered together near the center of the cage, unsure what to do next. There was a slight chill in the damp air, and Lisbon hugged herself and ran her hands up and down her bare arms to keep warm. Jane stepped closer and put an arm over her shoulders, his bare chest against her back. She was grateful for the warmth of him, but didn’t like how Anne and Eric smiled when he did it.

“How about some music?” Anne asked. Eric got up and went to a panel on the wall Lisbon hadn’t noticed before. He pushed a few buttons and soft jazz emanated from somewhere in the ceiling. Her stomach twisted into knots and she swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. She definitely did not like where this was going. “Kiss her Patrick,” Anne directed.

Lisbon turned so she could look up at him.

“Lisbon?” he asked, looking uncertain.

“It’s all right, Jane,” she said. He nodded and leaned in to brush a soft kiss against her lips.

“You can do better than that,” said Anne. Jane let out a frustrated sigh and bent to kiss her again. Lisbon ran her hands through his hair, trying to let him know she was okay. He was still being hesitant, so she took the initiative, sliding her tongue into his mouth, trying to kiss him the way she had kissed him dozens of times over the last few weeks. It worked. He held her a little more firmly and kissed back. They found the spark that had always been there between them and let it light their way back to each other.

When they parted, they gazed into each other’s eyes, and everything else fell away. And somehow, Lisbon knew in that moment that they were going to get out of this. Jane had a plan. Jane always had a plan. And she trusted him with her life.

“See?” Anne said with quiet awe, bringing them both back to reality. “I knew you were meant to be together. You love each other. Whatever was keeping you apart – it’s gone now. We have freed you from it.”

Jane stepped back and Lisbon’s hands fell away from him.

“I wouldn’t call this freedom, Anne,” he said. “You’re right that out there, Lisbon and I…” he looked at her regretfully, “we can’t be together the way we want. But putting us in a cage doesn’t grant us freedom.”

“Yes it does,” said Anne, her face lit up with something akin to religious ecstasy. “You can’t see it yet, but you will! I’ll show you. Make love to her.”

“What?” Jane said in a low voice. Lisbon felt frozen in place. She had known this would come up eventually, but had hoped they would be rescued before it came to this.

“Make love to her, Patrick. She wants you to; she just doesn’t know how to say it yet.”

“Uh, no,” Lisbon said, beginning to back away. It wasn’t Jane she was trying to get away from – she knew he would never do anything she didn’t want – it was Anne’s fanatic-like tone.

“Don’t resist, Teresa,” Anne said, moving forward. “You want this.”

“No,” she said, “I don’t.”

Anne turned to Jane.

“Take her, Patrick. It’s what she wants.”

“Uh no, I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” Jane replied. “See, she said ‘no’ which in my book means ‘no’. So… no.”

Anne’s smile dropped away, an icy glint in her eyes.

“Eric,” she said quietly. Eric came up beside her, the gun once more trained on Jane. “Either you make love to Teresa, or Eric will shoot you.”

Lisbon had been expecting this. She also knew what came next: if it was a question of letting Jane die or having sex in front of two psychos, Lisbon knew which one she would choose. She took a deep breath and walked back toward Jane.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, just put the gun down. We’ll do what you want.” She took Jane’s hand but he shook her away and stepped back.

“No,” he said firmly.

“Jane–” she began.

“No,” he said again. “If they want to shoot me, they can shoot me, but I’m not doing this.” Lisbon didn’t know what to do. She wouldn’t force him, but she didn’t want to watch him die either. And what happened to her after he was dead? She looked at him, trying to ask what he was doing. His eyes widened, eyebrows twitching up almost imperceptibly: _Trust Me_. He was calling their bluff. Of course they weren’t going to shoot them – not now, after everything they went through to get them. Not after one day. Eventually, yes, if she and Jane continued to be defiant, they would have to kill them, but they weren’t there yet. They had time.

The four of them stood like that for a long moment: Anne’s face full of fury, Eric calmly pointing the gun at Jane who stood with arms crossed, while Lisbon held her breath and waited to see if Jane was right and it really was just a bluff.

“Fine,” Anne said at last, and Eric lowered the gun. “You’re not ready. Maybe tomorrow, after you’ve had some time to think about it.” With that, she went upstairs and returned shortly with two cups. She put them in the slot, and Jane picked them up without prompting. Lisbon climbed into bed and waited for him, but on the way Jane tripped. He caught himself and both cups without spilling anything, but Lisbon thought it was odd. Jane didn’t trip over his own feet.

It wasn’t until he handed over her cup that she realized he had managed to pour out more than half. But where had it gone? She would have seen if it had spilled on the floor…

And then she knew. He had poured it into his own cup. Jane was hoping that half a dose would mean that Lisbon would wake up with enough time to get to the tracker. But that meant Jane was going to get his dose plus half of hers. Would the extra hurt him? They didn’t even know what it was. Anne had made sure to specify which cup was his and which was Lisbon’s when she handed them to him, which meant the dosage had to be fairly specific. What if he overdosed?

“Jane…” Lisbon whispered.

“It’ll be all right, Lisbon,” he said. “We’ll just go to sleep, like we did last night. Right, Anne?”

“Of course,” said Anne.

Lisbon wanted to argue but Jane swallowed his down before she could say anything else. It was done. Nothing else she could do but follow the plan and get them out of there. The sooner they were rescued, the sooner she could get Jane to a hospital. She drank her half-cup, pretending to drink a few seconds after it was gone so they wouldn’t suspect anything. Jane had already lain down, eyes gone glassy. She lay beside him, watching as he fought to stay awake. She reached out and took his hand, even as the drugs started to drag her down as well.

“I’m with you, partner,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure he heard her, but she thought she felt him squeeze her hand once before she succumbed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I'm still not entirely happy with this chapter, but you guys have been so patient, so I'm going to post it anyway. Maybe someday I'll go back and tweak it a little.  
> Thanks for reading!


	13. Rescue

She clawed her way to consciousness like a swimmer desperately reaching for the surface. There was an urgency in the back of her mind that was propelling her forward, telling her to open her eyes, to GET UP.

Lisbon sat up with a gasp. Her heart was pounding, her breathing fast and shallow as adrenaline raced through her bloodstream, bringing her fully awake. It was pitch black again, and she reached out blindly for the bedside table and switched on the lamp there. She turned at once to Jane beside her. He was still out cold.

“Jane,” she said, shaking him. “Jane, wake up!” Nothing. She bent over him, checking to make sure he was breathing. He was. _Thank God_.

She got out of bed, racing around to the other side. She rolled Jane gently onto his side and dug into his pillowcase to retrieve the metal hook. With it in hand she went over to the slot and reached out toward the basket. It worked like a charm. She dragged the basket closer to the slot, and began fishing around, pulling out clothes until she found her pants.

She pulled them in and her hand closed around the right cuff. The tracker was still there. She worked it up to the pocket with the hole, pulled it out, and switched it on.

She had no idea what time it was. Nor did she know how long it would take for rescue to come. Would they get here before Anne and Eric woke up?

She decided it was best not to risk it, and began putting the other clothes back in the basket, then used the hook to put it back where it had been. She tore a small hole in her pillow and put the tracker and the makeshift hook inside, and then climbed back into bed to wait.

She would prefer to be dressed when she was rescued, but if Eric and Anne woke up before then she didn’t want to give them any reason to be suspicious. It was going to be hard enough explaining why she was awake and Jane wasn’t.

She shut off the bedside lamp, and lay back down beside Jane. She could hear the steady rhythm of his breath and it comforted her. As long as he was still breathing, everything was going to be okay…

* * *

Lisbon wasn’t sure how long it took for them to be rescued. With no way to tell the passage of time, and nothing to occupy her thoughts but her own fears, it seemed like she lay there for an eternity.

She jumped at the sound of the front door being breached. She could hear shouting, someone identifying themselves as CBI. It sounded like Cho.

She turned on the lamp and stood beside the bed. She could hear people moving through the house, and then, suddenly, gunshots. Two shots, then two more, then someone screaming and one more shot. Silence. Lisbon stayed where she was and prayed. Finally, she heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Lisbon? Jane?” Cho’s voice called out. She ran to the door of their cage.

“We’re here! Cho! Jane and I are here, we’re alone.”

She heard someone fumbling at the door.

“Hold on, it’s locked,” Cho’s voice called. “Someone find the keys.” The call for keys was repeated through the house. Eventually, they were found, and Cho unlocked the door.

The door opened and Cho appeared.

“Boy am I glad to see you,” Lisbon said. Cho strode over to the door of the cage and examined the keypad.

“Are you okay? Where’s Jane?” he asked.

“I’m fine, but Jane’s still out. They drugged us with something, I don’t know what, but Jane drank half of mine to give me a chance to get us out of here,” Lisbon said in a rush. “Cho, he needs a doctor. He’s breathing for now, but I don’t want to risk it.”

Van Pelt and Rigsby came down the stairs.

“Oh thank God!” Van Pelt said when she saw Lisbon. “You had me worried, boss. What took you so long to activate the tracker?”

“Explanations later,” said Cho. “We need a paramedic down here. Also, we’re gonna need a saw or something. I think we’re going to have to cut them out of there.”

“We could try shooting the keypad,” Rigsby suggested as Van Pelt went to get help.

“Stand back,” Cho told Lisbon taking out his gun. He shot the keypad, destroying it, and then tried the door. It still wouldn’t budge. “Damn,” Cho said under his breath.

“It’s okay,” said Rigsby. “We’ll get something to cut through the wall.” He disappeared up the stairs as well. Lisbon was left looking helplessly at Cho.

“You might want to put on some clothes, boss,” he said without looking at her. Lisbon looked down, having completely forgotten she was still wearing the skimpy red slip.

“Oh, right.” She went to the dresser and absently pulled out pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt and put them on over the slip. Then she went over to check on Jane.

He seemed alright, but she really wanted a professional to look at him. Van Pelt returned a little while later with a paramedic who started asking Lisbon questions about how they were drugged. Lisbon answered as much as she could, but there was a lot she didn’t know.

“Do you know how long ago the drug was ingested?”

“Uh, I don’t know. What time is it now?”

“Just after midnight,” Cho replied.

“So assuming we ate dinner around… 8? That would mean we probably took the drugs around… um, I don’t know, maybe close to 9? That would make it about 3 hours ago.”

The paramedic nodded and started looking for something in her kit.

“OK, it’s a little on the late end, but I’m going to give you something called activated charcoal. Try to get him to swallow it. If there’s any more of the drug still in his stomach it will neutralize it. That’s about all we can do for now.” She passed a squeeze bottle to Lisbon through the slot.

Lisbon went over to Jane, and started to try and sit him up. It was hard work moving his dead weight, but she managed to prop him more or less upright. She tilted his head back and opened his mouth, but hesitated before pouring the stuff down his throat.

“What if he chokes on it?” she asked.

“Unlikely,” said the paramedic. “His airway will close automatically, it’ll just spill out of his mouth. Try massaging his throat to get him to swallow it.”

Lisbon put the bottle to Jane’s open mouth and squeezed. He convulsed in her arms, coughed and the liquid spilled out, but he still didn’t wake up.

“Dammit!” Lisbon swore.

“That’s okay, just try again,” the paramedic assured her. “After you pour it in, close his mouth and massage the throat.”

Lisbon tried again, taking her advice.

“Come on, Jane, swallow,” she murmured to him. He convulsed again, but this time he swallowed most of it, just a trickle spilling out of the corner of his mouth. She did it again until the bottle was empty. “Now what?” she asked.

“Nothing,” said the paramedic with a shake of her head. “As long as he’s still breathing alright, just let him be.”

* * *

By the time they finally managed to cut them out of there, Jane was starting to come around. Lisbon moved away to let the paramedic do her job.

“Well there don’t seem to be any lasting effects,” she said after checking him thoroughly, “but I’d like to be safe and get you to a hospital for more tests just to be sure.”

“No hospitals,” Jane said hoarsely.

“Jane,” Lisbon began, “just let them check you out…”

“No hospitals, Lisbon. Please.” He blinked up at her pitifully. He was a mess, with black streaks at the corners of his mouth and down his chest where the activated charcoal had spilled out.

“You don’t have to stay, but please just let them check you out,” Lisbon pleaded. He looked at her for a long time and then sighed.

“Oh all right. As long as you get checked out too,” he said. Lisbon smiled.

“Deal.”

They waited for Jane to get dressed, and then Cho and Van Pelt drove them to the hospital. (Jane refused to go in an ambulance.)

“So what happened while I was unconscious?” Jane asked.

“Well, I woke up, used the hook to get the tracker and turned it on,” Lisbon answered.

“As soon as the signal came on we got the team together and came to get you,” said Van Pelt.

“We entered the house,” Cho began, “and the male suspect-”

“Eric,” supplied Jane.

“Started shooting,” Cho continued. “We returned fire, and he caught two in the chest, went down. The woman grabbed his gun and shot herself in the head.”

“They’re dead?” Jane asked.

“She is. They took him to the hospital, not sure if he’ll make it.”

“Tell them not to go to any trouble,” Jane muttered.

* * *

They both got checked out at the hospital and everything seemed normal. The doctor wanted them to stay for observation just to be sure, but Jane refused, and if Jane wasn’t staying, Lisbon wasn’t either. Since the doctor couldn’t actually say for sure that there was anything wrong, he was forced to release them.

Van Pelt offered to drive Lisbon home, and didn’t say anything when Jane tagged along. Lisbon knew she shouldn’t let him, should insist that he go his own way, but found that she couldn’t bear to send him to that motel he called home or - even worse - his house in Malibu. Besides, she wasn’t ready to be apart from him.

Jane followed her into her dark apartment, and she automatically went to put the kettle on.

It was just before dawn, and Lisbon was exhausted, but she couldn’t imagine trying to sleep just now. It was all still too fresh. She kept seeing Eric’s smile when he looked at her or the manic euphoria on Anne’s face when she told Jane to make love to Lisbon. She kept thinking about Eric undressing her while she was unconscious. She had told Jane she didn’t think he did anything else to her (not that what he had done wasn’t bad enough) but she didn’t really know for sure. Was not knowing better or worse than knowing?

Jane touched her arm and she startled away from him.

“Sorry,” he said, putting up both hands cautiously like she was a fractious horse.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine, I was just… lost in my thoughts.”

“Lisbon. It’s me. You don’t have to be ‘fine’ for me.”

“No, I know that.” To her horror, she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She rubbed her eyes angrily. “I don’t know why I’m crying. We’re both alive, and we’re fine. There is nothing to cry about.” He took her in his arms and stroked her back. She hugged him fiercely, burying her face in his neck and breathing in his smell.

The kettle started to whistle, forcing them to break apart. Lisbon dried her eyes hastily, and went about making them both a cup of tea.

They sat at her kitchen table, drinking tea, the air thick with things unsaid. It was starting to sink in that this was really over. When she got up tomorrow, she wouldn’t find Jane in the kitchen cooking breakfast. She wouldn’t kiss him good morning. She wouldn’t feel his hands on her, undressing her, caressing her… She met his eyes and a spark of heat passed between them. Jane licked his lips.

“I should go,” he said without looking away. It was like their eyes were glued to each other.

“Don’t go. Please don’t go.” She took his hand.

“Lisbon,” he sighed, finally dropping his eyes.

“I know,” she said, releasing him. He was right, of course - he should go. He reached for her hand before she could pull it back and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Just until you fall asleep,” he said.

She led him upstairs to her bedroom, and changed into her own clothes. She would get rid of the ones she was wearing. She didn’t want to keep anything from that place. Jane went to her bathroom and splashed water on his face, wiping away the black stains. Lisbon pulled the curtains shut against the rising sun, and they climbed into bed together. She lay with her head on his shoulder, one arm flung over his chest, holding him to her. He stroked her hair.

Eventually, she fell asleep. When she woke up, he was gone.


	14. Back to Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Lisbon attempt to go back to normal, but after everything they've been through, that proves harder than they thought.

They went in the next day to give their statements and go over some paperwork, and then Hightower ordered them to take a week off to recover. Lisbon didn’t see or speak to Jane once that whole week.

She told herself she didn’t think about him. She didn’t think about him when she washed the cup he’d used. She didn’t think about him when she stripped her bed of the sheets that smelled like him. She didn’t think about him when someone came to deliver all her personal items from the house, and she found they had accidentally given her his shampoo. She certainly didn’t open that shampoo and sniff it, and that most definitely did not make her cry.

In her worst moments she wondered if Anne was right: maybe they had been freer in that cage. Out here, in the real world, they couldn’t have everything they wanted. Out here, they couldn’t be together.

She got out of the apartment as much as she could. She hated how quiet and empty it seemed. She went for long walks, nowhere in particular. She ordered take-out every night for dinner, and ate in front of the TV with the sound turned up to drown out the silence. She slept most nights on her couch, not bothering to go up to bed, and she dreamed about trying to outrun some faceless monster. Sometimes Jane was with her in the dreams; sometimes he was the monster she was running from.

* * *

The night before she was supposed to go back to work, just after midnight, her doorbell rang. She looked through the peephole to find Jane standing on her stoop. No, not standing – swaying. She opened the door.

“Jane?”

“Lisbon!” his face broke into a bright smile and he lurched forward, Lisbon moved back to let him in. “H - How are you? You good? You look good.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “You’re drunk.”

“Juss a little.” He held up his hand, thumb and forefinger slightly apart.

“What are you doing here, Jane?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

He blinked at her like he didn’t know how to answer her question.

“I missed you,” he said at last.

“Jane.”

“No, I - I know. I shouldn’t… Stupid of me. ‘M sorry. I’ll go.” He started to turn, but Lisbon grabbed his arm to stop him.

“No, it’s fine. You’re in no condition to be alone right now. Tell me you didn’t drive here.”

“Took cab.”

“Good. Here, sit down.” She steered him over to the couch. He sat heavily, pulling her down with him so that she landed in his lap. “Jane!”

“I miss you, Lisbon,” he said, stroking her cheek. “I miss looking at you, I miss kissing you, I miss watching your face light up when you come…” Lisbon struggled against his arms which were holding her, keeping her on his lap.

“Jane, stop -” He silenced her with a kiss, tongue slipping greedily into her mouth. She shoved both hands into his chest. “STOP!” she shouted, tearing her mouth away. His arms released her and she stumbled back off his lap.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry. Lisbon, please, I didn’t mean -”

“It’s fine,” she snapped. She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “No. You know what? It’s NOT fine,” she said. “I don’t hear one peep from you for a whole week, and then you show up, drunk, and want to - what? Make out like teenagers? And then what? We go to bed and I wake up alone, because you snuck out like the coward you are?”

“I am a coward, you’re right. I - I am so scared. ‘M scared to be with you, and scared to be without you. I told you I was weak. I don’t know h-how to be without you anymore.” He dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head. Lisbon felt some of her anger drain away.

“I’ll make us some tea,” she said, going to the kitchen. Jane started to protest. “Just stay there,” she said. “We’ll have tea and… and we’ll work this out.” She had absolutely no idea how they were going to do that, but it sounded good.

She came back from the kitchen with two cups of tea to find Jane passed out on her couch.

“Great.” She set the tea on the coffee table, threw a blanket over him, shut off the light, and went up to bed.

* * *

He was still there when she got up the next morning. _Well that’s a surprise_ , she thought. _Maybe it’s an aversion to sleeping in beds._

She went about her morning, making coffee, cleaning up the few dishes from last night. She was halfway through her bowl of oatmeal when she heard him stirring. He appeared in the kitchen looking decidedly rumpled.

“Morning,” she said loudly and he winced. “If you want tea you can make it yourself, seeing as I made you some last night but you passed out before you could drink it.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He filled the kettle and put it on the stove, moving slowly. Lisbon finished her oatmeal and sat back, sipping her coffee and watching him.

“You coming to work today?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” he said, pouring hot water over a tea bag.

“Just as well. It’s going to be mostly paperwork - you know, all that boring stuff you hate. I don’t know if you heard, but it looks like Eric is going to live. So there will be a trial after all, and I have to make sure everything is filed properly.”

“I heard,” he said with a frown. “Lisbon… about last night-” he began.

“Forget it,” she cut him off. “You were drunk.”

“I don’t actually remember all that much, but I do remember kissing you after you asked me to stop, and that is very much not okay - no matter how drunk I was. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

He sat down opposite her and sipped his tea.

“And, I apologize for anything else I did that I can’t remember.”

“There wasn’t anything else. Not really.”

“We should talk about this, though, shouldn’t we? I’m obviously not handling it very well.”

“You had a bad night,” Lisbon said with a shrug. Truth was, the whole thing made her uncomfortable, and she would rather just forget it happened.

“It’s more than that,” he said, shaking his head. “Last night was just the first time I actually rang your bell.”

“What? Dammit Jane, why didn’t you call? We could have talked about this a lot sooner and avoided all of this.”

“I know,” he said, wincing, “I’m sorry.” She sighed in frustration, running her hands distractedly through her hair.

“Has anything changed?” she asked after a pause. He looked up at her, confused. “I mean, are you giving up your pursuit of Red John?”

“No.”

“Are you ready to be in a real relationship again?”

“I - I don’t know.”

“If we were together, could you really be with me - or would you push me away because you’re afraid of getting hurt again?”

He was silent.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment, “that’s what I thought.” She got up.

“Wait,” he said. “Is that it?”

“What do you want me to say? You aren’t ready. Half of you is still stuck in the past. And I know you think killing Red John will somehow set you free but… Jane, I have to be honest, I’m not sure that’s true. Red John isn’t the one holding you back: you are. I won’t love someone who can’t give me all of themselves. I deserve better than that.”

“I know you do,” he said looking up at her. There were unshed tears in his eyes, but Lisbon felt all cried out.

“I have to go,” she said. “Stay as long as you like, you can let yourself out.” She left before she could do something stupid. Every bone in her body was screaming at her to take back everything she just said and kiss him breathless. But she couldn’t. What she’d said was the truth: he wasn’t ready, and she deserved better. What else was there to say?

* * *

Things went, more or less, back to normal after that. They caught a new case and Jane came back to work. The team worked the evidence while Jane pulled his usual shenanigans, driving Lisbon crazy but managing to catch the killer in the process. And then there was the next case, and the next, and so on.

Sometimes she caught herself staring at him, thinking about his lips on hers, and she would drag herself back to the present and give herself a stern talking to. Jane showed no signs that anything was different except that he was very careful not to touch her anymore. He’d always touched her casually before - a lingering hand on her shoulder, or a faint brush of fingers down her arm - but not anymore. It wouldn’t have bothered her so much except he was still very tactile with the rest of the team and it seemed glaringly obvious that she was being excluded. Maybe it was only obvious to her.

She mentioned it to Van Pelt when they went to lunch one day.

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said.

“Hmmm,” Lisbon said, frowning.

“If it bothers you so much you should say something to him.”

“No.”

“I guess things ended kinda badly?”

“It’s not like that. I mean, we weren’t really, you know, together. It was always just supposed to be pretend, for the job.”

“But it wasn’t pretend,” Van Pelt said gently. “You don’t have to be a psychic (fake or not) to see that you two love each other.”

“Maybe,” Lisbon muttered, staring at her plate without really seeing it, “but it’s not enough.”

* * *

It was almost a month after Jane showed up drunk at her apartment that Lisbon felt like they had finally put it all behind them. She would always wonder what might have been, but she was moving on with her life. She even went on a date with a man she met while getting coffee. He was nice. He was normal. She turned him down when he called to ask her on a second date. She told herself it was because they didn’t quite click. She told herself it had nothing to do with Jane.

That day, Jane put a hand on her shoulder and her heart went into overdrive. She told herself it was just because it was so unexpected after all this time. She told herself it didn’t mean anything.

She met his eyes. He took his hand off her shoulder and looked away. She knew then that it was all lies: they hadn’t put it behind them. It was still right there - the proverbial elephant in the room. They could smile and pretend enough to fool everyone else, but one look and they both saw it for what it was: an act.

It was another month before Lisbon actually put it behind her for good.

A new lead in the Red John case had the team scrambling, and sent Jane running off alone. The lead came to a dead end, but the damage was done. Jane became secretive and standoffish once more. It hurt, watching him distance himself again, cutting her out, but, in some ways, it was good. She needed that hurt to say her final goodbyes to what-might-have-been.

She let him go.

* * *

“Morning Lisbon,” Jane said, coming up behind her as she stood over a body - their newest case.

“You’re late,” she said.

“‘Morning Jane’ is what I think you meant to say,” he replied.

“No,” she said, turning to him, “I said what I meant. What took you so long?” He looked at her, one of those long studying looks he gave when he was reading all the secrets behind your eyes. “Jane?” His eyes narrowed, lips pressed together in a thin, harsh line.

“So that’s it, huh?” he said, voice hard. “Just like that? You woke up this morning and you were,” he waved his hand sharply, “over me?”

“Jane!” Lisbon hissed, looking around to see if anyone was listening.

“No, it’s good, Lisbon," he said, frowning at the corpse on the ground. "I’m happy for you.” But Jane didn’t look happy. He looked pissed. “So, who’s the dead guy?”

“Jane,” she said.

“No, that’s my name. I was asking about the corpse.”

“Hey,” she grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her. “What do you want from me?” she asked in a low voice. A crime scene was really not the place for this.

“Nothing, Lisbon,” he said, and she had never seen his face so closed, so expressionless. “Forget I mentioned it.”

“No,” she said, starting to lose her temper, “you don’t get to play this game with me. You don’t get to play the jilted lover and get all angry.”

“Oh really? Then please, tell me what I am allowed to do. How would you like me to feel, Lisbon? What emotion would be acceptable to you?”

“That is so unfair and you -” she cut off as Cho approached.

“Neighbor says the dead guy is Brand Stitcher - works in real estate,” said Cho. He looked between the two of them. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” said Lisbon.

“No problem,” said Jane.

* * *

They worked the case and neither of them mentioned the fight. Jane pulled his usual amount of foolishness and Lisbon admonished him and tried her best to keep him in line.

At the end of the day, just before she went home, Lisbon found Jane laid out on his couch with his eyes closed. She hesitated to disturb him, but they needed to have this out. She took a deep breath.

“Jane?”

He opened one eye and squinted at her.

“We should talk about this morning,” she said.

Jane opened the other eye, and sat up.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said. “I was angry. I had no right to be.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, sitting next to him. “And, of course you’re allowed to feel… however you want to feel. If you’re angry, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have tried to tell you otherwise.”

“Thank you, but still - I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. The anger is at me, not you.”

“Are we going to be okay?” she asked after a moment. He looked at her - sad eyes roving over her face like he was committing it to memory.

“I hope so,” he said, with a little smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I thought I had let you go already – that I was at peace with it. It wasn’t until this morning that I realized I hadn’t, when I saw in your eyes that you had let _me_ go. It took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“It’s better this way,” she said, and she really believed that.

“Yeah,” he said, “of course it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is rough, but just stay with me. Jane and Lisbon are stubborn, they were never going to make this easy.


	15. Dark Places

Jane was once again lying on his couch when Hightower approached.

“Jane, you’re still here, good,” she said. Jane looked at her upside-down.

“Madeleine, what can I do for you?”

“Have you seen Lisbon?”

“She just went home about 10 minutes ago. Why?” Jane sat up, noticing Hightower’s anxiety.

“I just got word from the FBI that Eric Watersford escaped from the hospital.”

Jane felt like ice water had just been dropped into his stomach. Despite all the work they had done to catch Anne and Eric, the case was still technically in the hands of the FBI, and the team had been largely left out of the follow up. Jane had pushed the memories of his and Lisbon's time spent in captivity to the back of his mind and, beyond the knowledge that Eric had survived, hadn't given much thought to him at all.

“Why was he in a hospital?” he asked. “Shouldn’t he be in jail? It doesn’t take that long to recover from a couple bullet wounds…”

“Not that kind of hospital, he was in a mental hospital. He had a complete breakdown when he learned his sister Anne was dead,” Hightower explained.

“And the FBI thinks he might come after Lisbon and me.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“I’ll call Lisbon,” said Jane, already pulling out his phone. It rang for a long time before finally clicking over to Lisbon’s voicemail. “She’s not answering,” he said, looking worriedly at Hightower.

“I’ll call SacPD, have them send a patrol car by her place.”

“Better yet,” he said, standing, “I’ll go myself.”

“No, you stay here. At least I know you’re safe here. I don’t want you going anywhere alone, understood?”

“Yes,” he sat back down reluctantly. Hightower went to make her phone call and Jane looked around feeling lost. He tried Lisbon a few more times and left a message asking her to call him back. He texted her also. Then he went over to Van Pelt’s desk and used her phone to call Lisbon, just in case she wasn’t answering his calls. She still didn’t answer.

Hightower returned and he didn’t like the look on her face.

“SacPD found Lisbon’s front door open and signs of a struggle,” she said.

Jane’s stomach clenched, his heart felt like it was in his throat.

“I called the team back in,” she continued. “Van Pelt is on her way here, Cho and Rigsby are going to Lisbon’s apartment to see if they can find anything that might tell them where he took her.”

“I want to talk to the doctor who was treating Eric,” Jane said. “I want to know more about this breakdown.”

“I’ll get him down here. I already have a call in for a warrant for the hospital records, they should be here soon, there’s a judge that owes me a favor. I’ll send them over to you as soon as I get them.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll find her, Patrick.”

Jane nodded. Yes, they would find her, he was sure of that. But, would they find her in time? Visions of all the horrible things Eric could be doing to her danced through his head. A combination of having seen some truly terrible things and being in possession of a very active imagination meant his brain could go to some dark places. He shook those thoughts away - they wouldn’t help Lisbon right now.

Van Pelt arrived and started checking off any properties connected to Eric and Anne - anyplace he could run where he might feel safe. Cho and Rigsby called in to say they hadn’t found anything useful, and Van Pelt sent them off to check a cabin that had been owned by Eric and Anne’s father.

The doctor who had treated Eric arrived but refused to say anything, citing doctor-patient confidentiality. Jane hated doctors, and this one in particular made him see red. Hightower, who was leading the interrogation, saw the potential danger and sent Jane out of the room before he could do something he couldn’t take back. He didn’t like being shut out, but he knew she was right: strangling this doctor wasn’t going to get Lisbon back in one piece.

The warrant was taking longer than expected, despite Hightower’s efforts. Jane paced through the CBI, from the interrogation rooms, to the kitchen, to the bullpen, stopping at Lisbon’s office. He looked through the glass at her empty chair.

He thought about where she was right then: with a psycho who was obsessed with his half-sister. A half-sister with whom he’d had a sexual relationship sometime probably in their teens, until they were found out by their abusive father. A half-sister he hadn’t been allowed to touch for years, instead finding surrogates to watch and obsess over. A half-sister whose death sent him into a full mental breakdown. A half-sister who resembled Lisbon.

He honestly wasn’t sure what happened next. All he knew was that when he came to, one of Lisbon’s glass windows was shattered and his hand was bleeding. He looked at his hand, blood dripping from a few cuts, one of which looked fairly deep.

“Jane!” a shocked voice said behind him. He turned to see Van Pelt hurrying forward. “What did you do?” she asked, examining his bleeding hand. “Someone get a towel,” she said over her shoulder, and several people sprinted away. “I’ll have to take you to the hospital.”

“No hospital,” Jane said automatically.

“Jane, this is serious, you might need stitches.” A towel appeared at her elbow and she took it and began to wrap it around Jane’s bleeding hand. She started to steer him toward the elevator but Jane made a detour for his couch instead. “Jane!”

“No hospital,” he said again. He sat stubbornly on his couch, pressing the towel to his injured hand hard to stop the bleeding.

“Ugh! Fine! I’ll get a paramedic to come look at you,” she said.

The paramedic cleaned up the wounds and wrapped his hand in bandages. She thought he needed stitches, and told him he should get it looked at by a doctor. Jane declined and she shrugged and told him to keep the bandage dry and change it regularly.

“What were you thinking?” Van Pelt asked once the paramedic had gone.

“I wasn’t,” he said.

“Well that’s obvious,” she scolded. “Or did you think that bleeding to death would somehow help you find Lisbon?”

“Lisbon…” he muttered distractedly. Something had just occurred to him... “Grace,” he said sharply.

“What?”

“The house. That’s where he would take her.” He stood up, practically vibrating - he knew he was right.

“Which house?”

“Our house - Lisbon and I - it’s the last good thing Eric remembers: watching us. He’ll want to relive the fantasy.”

Van Pelt looked at him for a beat.

“I’ll call Cho and Rigsby,” she said, pulling out her phone. Jane started walking to the elevator. “Hey!” she said, catching up. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Jane just turned and looked at her.

“Well, you’re not going alone,” she said. “I’ll call them from the car. And I’m driving - you’re in no condition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when you thought they were safe... Sorry to leave you with a cliffhanger again, but I just got home from vacay and I'm exhausted. I promise a nice long chapter tomorrow!


	16. "Patrick"

Lisbon’s head hurt. Why did her head hurt? She tried to piece together the last hour. She remembered talking to Jane, saying goodnight. She got home and then… nothing. No wait - she remembered pain. Someone hit her on the back of the head.

With a gasp, Lisbon came fully conscious, looking around her frantically. Where was she? Without furniture it took her a moment to recognize the room, but the more she looked the more familiar it seemed. It was the dining room at the house. The one she and Jane had eaten dinner in almost every night they had been living there.

That would explain the lack of furniture: the FBI had cleared the house out once the operation was over. She was currently on the floor, hands bound behind her, legs bound at the ankle. She could hear someone moving in the kitchen. She tried to feel for her phone in her pocket, but it wasn’t there. She looked around for something sharp, anything that could cut through her bindings, but the room was truly empty.

Eric appeared from the kitchen carrying two takeout containers. Lisbon scrambled away as best she could, sliding across the floor on her butt until she fetched up against a wall. Eric watched her with an amused smile.

“Sorry about the furniture, darling,” he said. “I was so excited to show you the house, I didn’t have time to make it up properly. But this is better: we can pick out all new furniture together! Just you and me. We’ll make this a true home - someplace we can be happy.”

He sat down near her and placed a takeout container on the floor in front of her. Lisbon pressed back against the wall until her shoulders ached.

“Here sweetie, let me help you,” he said, picking up a fork and loading it with food. He brought it up to her mouth but Lisbon kept her lips firmly shut and turned her face away. “Now don’t be that way, Teresa. I know you prefer my cooking, but this was the best I could do - the kitchen isn’t really set up yet.”

“Eric,” she said calmly, “let me go.”

“‘Eric’?” he said. “Oh, sweetie you’re confused. You hit your head earlier, it was quite a bad fall. It’s me: Patrick. Come on, you know me, I’m your husband.”

“No,” she said, voice wavering a little, “you are not Patrick. You are Eric Watersford.”

“Teresa,” he smiled indulgently, “are you playing with me?” He set down the fork and caressed her face, Lisbon flinched away. He pulled her face toward him and kissed her. She tried to struggle, but his fingers twisted in her hair and pulled hard, forcing her to stay. She kept her jaw clenched, not allowing him access to any more than her lips. He pulled back at last. “What’s wrong, darling?” he asked, stroking a hand through her hair. “Are you mad about the house? You don’t have to do any of the work if you don’t want. I’ll take care of everything, I promise. All I want to do is take care of you.”

“Eric,” she tried again, “please stop. You are not Patrick. Please just let me go.”

“That’s enough, Teresa,” he said. The indulgent smile was gone and there was an edge of anger in his voice now. “I’ve played this little game long enough. Now, you are going to eat your dinner. Unless you’d rather go straight to bed, you naughty little girl. Is that what you want?” A wave of nausea went through her. _Oh God no,_ she thought. _Please no, please let me get out of this._ “I know just how you like it, baby,” he continued. He rubbed a hand up her thigh and Lisbon squirmed to get away.

“No please,” she said desperately. “I’ll eat dinner. I’m so hungry and - and it smells so good. I’m sorry, I - I shouldn’t have teased you, P-Patrick.” She almost choked on the name. It felt so wrong saying his name like this - the name she had spoken and whispered and moaned so often in this house.

Eric continued to rub her thigh for a moment. She tried to smile at him but wasn’t sure how convincing it looked. At last, he picked up the fork again and began feeding her. The food was like ash in her mouth but she forced herself to chew and swallow. Eric looked happy again. She just had to keep this up long enough to figure a way out of this.

He’d only brought two plastic forks with dinner, so not much luck there. With no furniture, there was nothing with so much as a semi-sharp corner in the whole house. Somehow she was going to have to get Eric to take off her bindings. She really didn’t like the options for that scenario, but didn’t see that she had much choice. If she could just get her feet unbound she might be able to make a run for it.

“Silly me,” Eric said suddenly, “I forgot the wine!” He jumped up and disappeared into the kitchen. Lisbon scooted around until she could reach one of the plastic forks, but it was no use - she doubted even a plastic knife would be much help. She moved back into position before he returned with the wine. “Here you are, darling. Drink up!” He held the cup to her lips but Lisbon turned away. The last time someone told her to ‘drink up’ hadn’t ended so well. If she was going to get out of this she definitely needed to be alert and awake.

“No thanks. I don’t really feel like wine right now,” she said.

“Don’t be silly, Teresa. We have to toast to our new home.”

“No, no, I really don’t want any. I - I have a headache from… from the fall I took earlier.”

“How about just a sip,” he insisted, shoving the cup at her lips.

“No! I don’t want any!” He continued to push the edge of the plastic cup to her lips so finally, she grabbed it with her teeth and pulled. He let go in surprise, and the wine sloshed back at her, hitting her in the face. She spit the cup out, letting it spill across the floor, and spit out the little wine that had gotten in her mouth as well.

“Dammit Teresa!” he roared. “Look what you’ve done!” Red wine was soaking into the carpet and Lisbon was dripping with it. Eric got up and went to the kitchen once more. He came back with a wad of napkins which he used to dry her face and then continued down her neck and chest where the wine had dripped. “You’re a mess,” he said and started to unbutton her blouse. She threw herself away from him, flopping painfully on her side and trying to squirm out of reach. “You’re just making this worse, Teresa,” he said mildly, watching her futile attempt to escape him.

He crawled toward her, shoving her onto her back and straddling her legs.

“NO!” she shrieked, struggling under him, trying to kick him, get away, anything. But he was a lot bigger than her and just pressed her shoulders to the ground, letting the weight of him subdue her lower half.

“Now, Teresa. Stop this. If you wanted me to make love to you, you should have just said so.”

“NO!” she screamed again. “Please no! Please don’t do this,” she was begging. She was desperate.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he soothed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s all right, Teresa. I know what you need.” She turned her head and bit his hand until she tasted blood. He screamed in pain, pried his hand from her jaws, and backhanded her hard across the face. It made her ears ring, and stunned her for a moment. She wondered if she had a concussion from when he hit her earlier, and thought getting hit in the face probably wasn’t doing her any favors.

She was stunned enough not to struggle when he stood to pick her up. He carried her through the kitchen and then up the stairs to the bedroom. It was just as empty as the rest of the house, and he dropped her unceremoniously on the floor right where the bed had been.

“Don’t move,” he said chillingly, and then went into the bathroom to wash the bite wound. Lisbon sat up and put her back to the wall, looking around for anything that could help her. There was nothing. “Now,” said Eric, returning, “are you going to be good, or do I have to gag you?”

She was trapped. Nothing could help her now. Did anyone even know she was missing? Even if they did, would they think to look here? Jane would. If he knew something had happened, if he knew she had been abducted and by whom, Jane would find her. The only question was if he would find her in time. She had to stall - give him as much time as she could.

“Oh now, Teresa. There’s no need for that.” She realized she was crying. Eric reached out to brush the tears away and she shied from him. “Look, I’m sorry I got mad,” he said, fingers running gently over where he had hit her. It already felt hot and puffy - that was going to be one hell of a black eye. “And I’m sorry I hit you, but, to be fair, you did bite me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said shakily. “You just… you scared me, is all.”

“Oh baby, you never have to be scared of me, you know that. I love you.”

She winced.

“I know,” she said trying to smile. “It’s just… it’s all too much, you know? The house and - and everything. I think I’d just like to go to sleep. Is that all right?”

“Teresa,” he smiled and she felt something twist in her gut. “I’m going to make you feel so good. You’ll see.”

“No,” she said, forcing herself to remain calm. “No, I’d really just rather get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow -” she cut off as he grabbed her feet and pulled her away from the wall. She fell backwards, her shoulders feeling wrenched, her bound hands digging into her lower back. He straddled her once more, held her face still with both hands and kissed her again. She struggled but it was no use. He broke the kiss and looked at her. He ran a hand down her chest, reached into her blouse and cupped her breast. She felt him getting hard and struggled and screamed again. He put a hand over her mouth.

“Stop that,” he said. She went quiet. She was trying to think, trying not to let the panic overwhelm her. He took his hand away, and she tried to breathe deep, forcing herself to be calm. She just needed him to release her feet.

“OK,” she said, “OK, I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t like being tied up, sweetie. You know that.” She smiled at him, and she thought she saw a flicker of confusion. “Remember, we tried it that one time, but - but I’m so claustrophobic. Remember?”

He frowned.

“I know,” he said. “But you’ve been acting so crazy tonight, I’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I won’t, I swear. It’s just that fall I took - my head’s a little fuzzy. Maybe - maybe just my legs?”

He looked at her and she wasn’t sure if he was going to go for it at first. But finally, he smiled.

“OK, baby. Gotta get your pants off anyway, don’t we?” Lisbon swallowed hard, willing her stomach to stay put. He moved off her to untie her legs. Once they were free, he crawled back up her body and reached for the button on her pants. She waited until he was in place and then kneed him hard in the groin. He doubled over, rolling onto his side, howling with pain. She scrambled to her feet but he caught her by the ankle and she went down hard. She kicked out and connected with his face. He screamed again, but he let her go and she managed to lurch into the walk-in closet. She kicked the door shut and threw herself against it, bracing for impact. She felt him push against it moments later, but she pushed back with all she had. He began pounding on the door. “TERESA! YOU LET ME IN RIGHT THIS SECOND!”

Lisbon gritted her teeth and braced herself. The pounding stopped and then there was a moment of silence before he slammed against the door again. It bowed but didn’t break. Still, she knew she wouldn’t keep him out forever.

_Please Jane,_ she thought, _please find me._

And then, like an answer to her prayers she heard his voice: “Eric.” There was a second of silence that seemed like it lasted a lifetime and then a gunshot and a body hit the floor.

“Jane!” shouted another voice - Lisbon thought it was Van Pelt. “Jane, drop it right now!”

The sound of a gun hitting the floor.

“Lisbon?” he called.

“I’m here,” she said, moving away from the door. He opened it a moment later, the light was behind him so all she could see was his silhouette, but she would know him anywhere. He knelt beside her, eyes looking her over, cataloguing every bruise.

“Grace, I need a knife, something,” he said. Lisbon could see Van Pelt stand up from checking for a pulse in Eric’s neck, and she pulled out a pocket knife to hand to Jane. He began to cut the bindings on her hands, but he was a little clumsy about it. When she was finally free she saw why and she cupped his bandaged hand in her own.

“What happened?” she asked.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine. Are you…?” he looked into her eyes, trying to reassure himself that she was all right.

“A little beat up,” she said, “but otherwise OK.” She could hear Van Pelt making a call, and the sound of sirens in the distance getting closer.

It was all a confusing whirlwind after that. Cho, Rigsby, and Hightower, as well as what looked like half the FBI, showed up. Paramedics looked her over and insisted on taking her out on a stretcher despite her protestations that she was perfectly capable of walking. They said something about head trauma, and she let them carry her out and put her in an ambulance. Jane stayed glued to her side the whole time.

They were just about to leave for the hospital when Hightower caught up with them.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “I need Jane to give a statement.”

“Can’t I do that later?” he asked.

“There’s been a shooting, I need to know what happened up there.”

Jane opened his mouth but Van Pelt stepped in and cut him off.

“I shot Eric Watersford,” she said. “He was a threat to Lisbon. I gave him fair warning, and then I shot him.”

Jane had gone very still beside her. Lisbon blinked at Van Pelt. She had been in the closet, so she hadn’t actually seen what went down, but she knew that wasn’t right. Jane shot Eric. Van Pelt was covering for him.

“Is that what happened, Jane?” Hightower asked. Jane looked at Van Pelt who gazed steadily back at him.

“Yep. That’s what happened,” he said.

Hightower narrowed her eyes at him.

“Lisbon, can you confirm?”

“I didn’t see it, ma’am,” Lisbon said honestly. “But from what I heard, that sounds right.”

“Hmmm,” said Hightower. “Van Pelt, you know you’re going to have to speak to someone about this - standard procedure for a shooting. You good with that?”

“Absolutely, boss,” Van Pelt said. Lisbon wanted to tell her not to oversell it. Jane’s hand had tightened around hers just slightly.

“All right then,” said Hightower at last, and she let them go. Lisbon let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The three of them - Lisbon, Jane and Van Pelt - exchanged one last look before Van Pelt leaned in to shut the door of the ambulance.

“You owe me big time,” she said with a wink. Jane grinned at her.

* * *

They separated briefly at the hospital while they looked her over thoroughly and got her in a hospital gown and into bed. The doctor didn’t see signs of a concussion, but wanted to keep her overnight for observation anyway.

Jane reappeared when she was settled.

“Here,” he said, handing her an ice pack, “for your eye.”

“Thanks,” she said, pressing it delicately to the side of her throbbing face.

“I could probably wheedle some of the good drugs out of one of the nurses too, if you need.”

“They gave me something already, to help me sleep. But thanks anyway.”

Jane stood awkwardly, not quite looking at her.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing his hand. “I’m okay. Jane…” He looked at her then, and his eyes were shiny with unshed tears. He smiled painfully.

“ _Are_ you?” he asked, his voice choked with emotion. Lisbon didn’t know how to answer. She was just so tired…

“No,” she said, “not really. But I will be.” She squeezed his hand and he winced slightly. “God, I’m sorry,” she said looking down at his bandaged hand. “Jane, what - you should get that looked at.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m serious. Please, go find a doctor and whatever it is - whatever happened, just make sure you’re OK. For me? Please?”

“I will. I promise. After you fall asleep, I swear. Let me stay till then.”

“Fine,” she relented. “Just, find a chair or something. You’re making me anxious, looming like that.”

He pulled a chair over and sat.

“You going to tell me what happened?” she asked, nodding at his hand. “You were in one piece when I left.”

“It was stupid,” he said. Then after a pointed pause: “Alright, fine. I may have, uh, smashed a window in your office.”

“With your fist?!” Lisbon said. Jane shrugged.

“I was upset.”

“OK, I get that, but did you have to take it out on my office?”

“To be honest… I kinda blacked out and when I came to… well.”

There was a long pause.

“‘Blacked out?’” she asked at last. He stared steadily back at her.

“Yes,” he said simply. Oooh boy, she was not touching that one. She thought about the six months he’d spent in a mental institution before they met. For the first time she wondered what exactly had prompted him getting locked up. But she had never thought of Jane as violent in any way - he was typically the one running away from any kind of fight, usually running to (and hiding behind) her. “Lisbon,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “I’m not cracking up. I was scared out of my mind. And I let it get the better of me, imagining all the horrible things-” he cut off abruptly, looking away.

“It’s okay,” she said, soothingly. “I’m okay. You found me.”

“I was so afraid I’d be too late,” he said, eyes searching her face. “Tell me I wasn’t too late. Tell me you’ll recover from this.”

“You weren’t too late, Jane. I’ll be okay. It might take… some time, but I’ll get there.” With the last of the adrenaline leaving her body, and the meds starting to take effect, Lisbon found it hard to keep her eyes open. She nodded once, recovered, then again.

“Go to sleep, Lisbon. I’ll be right here. I won’t leave you.”

She tried to mumble something about his hand, that he’d promised, but she wasn’t sure it was at all coherent, and then she was out.


	17. Broken Cups

The meds granted her a dreamless sleep for which she was grateful. When she woke, there was sunlight coming through the window. She blinked at the figure beside her. He was sitting in a chair, but his head and arms were resting face down on the bed. She reached out to run a hand through his hair, tousling it, watching the curls lengthen to their fullest extent before springing back. He stirred under her touch, and looked up at her with a sleepy grin. God she missed that look. He was so soft and vulnerable when he first woke up. She had almost forgotten…

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she replied. “That doesn’t look comfortable,” she said as he leaned back and stretched. He was moving a little gingerly, a grimace on his face as he worked out the kinks and the stiffness from spending the night in a hard chair.

“No, but when I asked for a couch they threatened to throw me out.”

“Did you at least get your hand looked at?” she asked.

“Yes dear. Only three stitches, and they changed the dressing,” he waved his re-bandaged hand as proof. “How do you feel?” he asked. Lisbon shrugged.

“A little beat up, but otherwise fine.”

“Good.” He stood up and stretched. “Let me find your doctor and see if we can get you out of here. The nurses checked on you a few times, said your vitals looked good, so there shouldn’t be any problem.”

“Thanks,” she said.

The doctor checked her over again, and signed her release papers. She also gave Lisbon a prescription for sleeping pills and the name of a psychiatrist who specialized in trauma. Lisbon took the prescription and the name and shoved both in her pocket without looking at them. The doctor eyed her unhappily.

“I really recommend you talk to someone,” she said.

“I’m an agent with the CBI, doc,” Lisbon said. “We have our own people for that. I promise I’ll talk to one of them. Thank you.”

When they reached the lobby Jane stopped. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Our ride isn’t here yet anyway.”

“Our ride?” she asked, but he had already disappeared. She sat in one of the plastic chairs and waited.

“Boss,” a voice called, and she looked up to find Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt all coming toward her. She stood uncertainly. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see them. They all had careful smiles plastered on their faces… well, all except Cho. He looked the same as ever.

“How do you feel?” Van Pelt asked.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically. They looked at her patiently. “Really,” she said. “A few bruises, but that’s all.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Van Pelt, gesturing at her face. Self-consciously, Lisbon reached up to touch her eye.

“Is it bad?” she asked. She hadn’t had a chance to look in a mirror yet.

“No,” Van Pelt said hurriedly. “No, it’s really… it’s not that bad.” The other two shook their heads vigorously. Lisbon wished Jane would hurry the hell up so she could go home, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over her head. And then she planned to stay there. Forever.

Jane reappeared from wherever he’d been.

“We ready to go?” he asked.

“You really didn’t have to call the whole team just to take me home,” she said.

“I didn’t. I only called Cho.”

Lisbon looked at Cho.

“I called Rigsby and Van Pelt,” he said without an ounce of shame. “We were all worried about you.”

“Well… thanks guys. It means a lot. Are we all going to fit?”

“Sure, I brought the van,” said Cho.

* * *

They didn’t ask her any questions for which she was thankful. They did offer to take her to breakfast which she refused.

“Thanks, but I really just want to go home, take a hot shower, and go to sleep.”

They dropped her at her apartment, and Jane followed, promising to make sure she would take it easy. Lisbon was going to protest, but found that she didn’t really want to, so she let him accompany her. There was yellow crime scene tape across her door. She pulled it down, balling it up and tossing it in the garbage. Jane had her keys - she didn’t ask how. There was a bad moment when she stepped over the threshold and remembered the blow to her head, but then it passed and she was fine.

“Can I make you something?” Jane asked.

“I’m not really hungry…”

“You should eat something,” he insisted.

“All right,” she waved a hand vaguely. “I’m going to take a shower. If you can find something edible in my kitchen, be my guest.”

She took the hottest shower she could stand. She let the water drum into her sore muscles while she inspected her numerous bruises. She didn’t remember getting knocked around quite that much, but she guessed there was a lot she hadn’t noticed in the adrenaline rush.

She got out and inspected herself in the mirror. It actually wasn’t as bad as she feared. The black eye was impressively dark, but the swelling was already gone. She guessed Jane must have held the ice pack on her face while she slept.

She pulled on her softest, most comfortable clothes, leaving off a bra entirely - Jane had seen everything anyway, so what the hell? - and went downstairs.

Somehow Jane had managed to spin a feast out of very little. There were pancakes with blueberries and sausage she vaguely remembered had been in her freezer. It smelled delicious, and despite what she had said, Lisbon fell to eating voraciously. Jane sipped his tea and watched her eat. And when she finished her plate, he reloaded it with seconds.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked through a mouthful of pancake.

“I ate at the hospital,” he said. She grunted. _Well, that was a lie_ , she thought, but she let it go.

Satisfied at last, she sat back. Jane poured her another cup of coffee and she sipped it slowly. She must have bitten her cheek at some point because there was a sore spot there. She tried to drink through the other side so the hot coffee wouldn’t bother it, but this was trickier than it seemed, and as her thoughts began to wander she kept forgetting.

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked. She looked at him blankly. “You keep wincing,” he said.

“Oh, nothing. I bit my cheek, it’s a little sore is all.”

He nodded.

“You can talk about it,” he said after a while. “If you want.”

“I really don’t.”

“OK.” There was another long pause. “You should talk to someone, though. I know the doctor said something similar and you brushed her off, but she was right.”

“I don’t have the best track record with therapists, remember? The last one drugged me and tried to frame me for murder.”

“Lisbon.”

“Jane.” She raised her eyebrows at him, daring him.

“You should at least talk to a friend,” he said. “If not me, maybe Grace?”

“You know… you’re one to talk. When was the last time you opened up to someone?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I opened up to you,” he said. “More than I have in…” he trailed off, huffed a small frustrated sigh and looked away. “Do you want me to go?” he asked.

_No,_ she thought.

“Yes,” she said. She held his gaze.

“Lisbon, if you want me to stay, just say so,” he said.

“I don’t,” she said, stubbornly. “I want you to go.” His eyes bored into her, but she refused to look away.

He stood abruptly, breaking the eye contact. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills and set it on the table.

“I filled your prescription.”

He pulled his jacket off the back of the chair and put it on. Lisbon felt awful. She hadn’t meant to send him away. Why couldn’t she just ask him to stay? But she couldn’t. Her jaw was clenched, her tongue paralyzed. There was a burning in her throat and a prickle behind her eyes.

He passed behind her and hesitated. She thought he wanted to touch her, could almost feel his hand hovering over her head, and she both did and didn’t want him to. The moment passed, and he moved away.

“If you need anything…” he said, but didn’t finish.

“Yeah, thanks,” she managed through her constricted throat. She heard him walk out of the kitchen, and then the sound of the front door opening and closing. She let out a sob, covering her mouth hastily. She didn’t let herself make another sound until she heard his footsteps moving down the sidewalk toward the street.

* * *

She cried herself to sleep and woke from a nightmare a few hours later. There was a message from Hightower on her landline - she’d managed to completely lose track of her cell. The message just said that no one expected her to come in today, but she wanted to see her tomorrow to at least give her formal statement. She also reminded her that she would need an evaluation by a qualified therapist before resuming her full duties.

_Everyone wants me to talk about it, like that’s going to make it go away or something. Like talking about it will make it better._

She didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to forget it. Intellectually, she knew that wasn’t healthy, but screw intellect! She was just trying to make it through this moment without flying apart.

She picked up her phone and was halfway through dialing Jane’s number when she put it back. She looked at the bottle of pills she’d brought up with her and set on her bedside table. She opened it, shook out a pill and swallowed it. Then she hunkered back down and pulled the covers up over her head.

It was the middle of the night when she woke once more. As soon as she was awake, her stomach made itself heard. She had slept all day and hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. She went down to her kitchen to see what could be done about that.

Her plate was still where she had left it. She picked it and her coffee cup up and put them in the sink. She looked at the teacup in the drying rack. Jane didn’t come to her place often, but whenever he did he only ever used that cup for his tea. It got to the point that she never used it herself: it was Jane’s cup.

In a sudden fit of rage she picked it up and threw it on the ground. The cup smashed into a dozen pieces. She stared at them, blinking back tears. Carefully, she stepped around the destruction she had wrought and went to get a broom to sweep up the broken shards. With the mess cleaned up, she turned to look around for something to eat. But she didn’t feel hungry anymore. Instead, she pulled down a bottle of scotch, threw some ice in a glass and poured herself a generous portion.

Several glasses later found her dialing Jane’s number.

* * *

Jane pulled up to Lisbon’s apartment with some trepidation. He hadn’t liked how she had sounded on the phone: obviously drunk, and maybe a little out of control. But she asked him to come, and here he was.

She answered the door and it was like a reverse of that other night, with Lisbon the one swaying and slurring her words, while he tried to be the voice of reason.

She grabbed him and pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips, and he took her shoulders gently but firmly and held her back.

“Lisbon,” he said, “we shouldn’t.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, “I’m so sick of ‘we shouldn’t’. ‘We shouldn’t kiss’, ‘we shouldn’t date’, ‘we shouldn’t fuck till we can’t see straight’!” She giggled. “That rhymed. ‘M a poet!”

“Yeah, let’s maybe get you a glass of-”

“SCOTCH!” she shouted. “YES! MORE DRINKING!”

“I was thinking water,” he said, trying to steer her toward the kitchen. She was stumbling and loose-limbed in his arms, letting him prop her up. He set her in one of the chairs and poured her a glass of water. “Drink this,” he said.

She went to pick it up, missed and swayed sideways. He caught her before she could fall off the chair, propped her upright once more, and picked up the glass himself. He held it to her lips. “Here you go.” He tipped it toward her mouth but she pulled away violently, pushing the glass out of his hand. 

“NO!” she shouted. It fell to the floor, sending water and glass everywhere. Lisbon fell back, stumbling to her feet and fetching up against the counter as far from him as she could get.

“No, I don’t want - I don’ wanna -” her eyes were darting around the room, her breathing fast and shallow. She gripped the edge of the counter like a life raft in a violent sea.

“OK, it’s okay, Lisbon,” he said. “You don’t have to.” He was afraid to move, but if she didn’t calm her breathing she was going to pass out. “Hey, look at me. Lisbon. Just breathe. Think about the ocean: the waves coming in… and going out… coming in… going out…” he kept it up, not exactly putting her in a trance - more like a kind of guided meditation - and eventually her breathing slowed and her panic lessened.

She groped for the chair and sat down again.

“S-sorry,” she slurred. “He - he kept feeding me, an’ then he tried - he gave wine… I dinna want, he tried force me…”

“Lisbon, I’m so sorry,” he said, horrified. “I had no idea.”

She waved away his apology, overbalanced and nearly fell out of her chair again, but corrected at the last moment.

“‘S okay,” she said.

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” he suggested. He started forward to help her out of the chair, but stopped short of actually touching her, unsure. Lisbon was staring at the broken glass on the floor. Jane had shoes on and hadn’t thought much about it, but noticed that Lisbon was barefoot. He was just about to offer to clean up when she interrupted.

“I broke your cup,” she blurted out.

“Well, actually, that was your cup,” Jane said gently, “but it’s all right. Let me just get it cleaned up and-”

“No,” she said. “I broke _your_ cup. Earlier.” He frowned at her, and she huffed a frustrated sigh. “Teacup. The one you use when you comeover. It was on th’counter, an’ I smashed.” She mimed throwing a cup at the floor, and then a clumsy re-enactment of the cup shattering. “BOOM!”

“Why?”

She shrugged, “Dunno.”

“Were you mad at me?”

“Course I’m mad at you, you stupid… stupid-face.”

“Alright… is there a particular reason you’re mad, or is it just because I’m a ‘stupid stupid-face’?”

Lisbon giggled.

“Stupid-face,” she said, and laughed harder. Jane waited with an amused smile while she laughed until she could hardly breathe. She calmed at last, just a few giggles escaping here and there, her head resting on her crossed arms on the table.

“OK, well ‘stupid-face’ here, thinks it’s time for you to go to sleep,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She sat up and looked at him, a soft smile on her face. “Up we go.” He lifted her into his arms, cradled against his chest, and she put her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. She was barely 100 pounds soaking wet, so he had little trouble taking her up the stairs to her room. He set her gently on the bed, but she didn’t let go, pulling him down with her.

“I don’ really think you have stupid-face,” she murmured. “Think you have a nice face.” She ran her fingers over his features and then through his hair. “I love you,” she said with a grin.

He couldn’t help but smile back, remembering that New Year’s party where she had told him over and over that she loved him (and Cho, and Rigsby, and Van Pelt, and yes, even Hightower).

“I love you too, Lisbon.”

She pulled him to her and kissed him slow. He broke the kiss, leaning back, and untangling himself from her. “No, don’ go,” she said.

“Lisbon…”

“I know I know: Shouldn’t.” She looked up at him. “Please don’t go.”

He knew he shouldn’t stay, but he could refuse her nothing when she looked at him like that. So, he climbed into bed with her, and she moved to snuggle up against him like she always did. She fell asleep almost immediately, and he stared up at the ceiling and listened to her breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lisbon... she just can't get out of her own way! Why does she have to make everything harder for herself?


	18. Enough

She came awake violently, limbs flailing, battling the nightmare that had woken her. It took a moment for her to realize someone was saying her name, the same someone who was trying to hold her, to keep her from punching him. She stopped flailing. Jane released her.

“Sorry,” she said, still breathing heavily. She smoothed her hair out of her face and straightened the bedding she had twisted around her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah. Nightmare.”

There was a pause.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said. The hangover was starting to make itself known, and her head felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to it. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Jane went very still.

“You asked me to stay,” he said.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to actually do it. You never stay. You always sneak away sometime in the night like a coward and leave me to wake up alone.”

Jane was silent.

“Sorry,” she said in a softer tone. “That came out harsher than I meant. It’s the hangover, makes me mean.” She tried to smile at him and he acknowledged the apology with a nod.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to take a shower first.”

He left her to it, and she took a very hot, very fast shower. When she came down she found he had made oatmeal with blueberries and coffee for her. He was sipping tea out of a mug that said “Fuck the Police (no really, I heard they’re great in bed!)” that had been a gift from one of her brothers. She could see how Jane would find that funny, but it just made her feel guilty all over again for smashing his teacup.

“I’m afraid I exhausted your pantry yesterday,” he said gesturing at the oatmeal, “this is all you get.”

“Thank you,” she said. The coffee and oatmeal helped ease the hangover even more than the shower had, and she began to feel a bit more like herself. Unfortunately, that allowed her to reflect on the night before. She only remembered pieces, but what she did remember made her flush with embarrassment.

“Jane,” she began, “about last night…”

“Forget it. Consider us even.”

“We shouldn’t be keeping score,” she said.

“No,” he agreed. “We _should_ be talking to each other, but neither of us is very good at that.”

“I guess not.”

“Can we try? Not now, but maybe… tonight? There are things… I want to say to you. Things I need to say.”

“OK,” she said, wondering how she would ever be able to wait to hear what he wanted to say. “Here?” she asked.

“Here is fine, unless you’d rather someplace else?”

“No, here is good.”

* * *

They went their separate ways; Jane going wherever he went when he wasn't working, and Lisbon going to CBI headquarters. She gave her formal statement about her abduction, and Hightower insisted that she speak with Dr. Reynard. When Lisbon tried to refuse, Hightower would hear none of it.

“You have been through something traumatic, Teresa,” she said. “You need to talk to someone, and I cannot allow you to resume your full duties until you’ve been evaluated. The truth is, I should have done the same for both you and Jane the first time you were abducted and held, but you both seemed fine so I let it go and instead gave you both time off to recover in your own way. I now believe that was a mistake on my part. I apologize.”

“There’s no need, boss. We were- we _are_ fine. Really.”

“I would very much like to believe that, which is precisely what skewed my judgement the first time. But me wanting one of my best agents and the CBI’s extraordinary consultant to be ‘fine’ does not make it so. If I thought I could make Jane speak to someone, I would, but I’m afraid I don’t have quite enough leverage over him. If I try to push too hard he would likely dig in his heels and quit, and, frankly, I worry that he would be much worse off without the CBI than he is with us.”

“Yeah,” Lisbon said, “I’ve often thought the same thing. We’re all Jane has.”

“Yes, and you are a big part of that equation, Teresa. I know he doesn’t always listen to you, but you are still the only person who has ever managed to wield any sort of control over him. Without you, I fear he might truly fall apart. So you see, beyond my wanting you to get the help you need - selfishly, I need to know you are in a stable enough headspace to keep Jane together and on task.”

“Alright,” Lisbon sighed, “I will speak to Dr. Reynard.”

“Thank you. You can go to her office now - she’s expecting you.”

Lisbon made her way to Reynard’s office, steeled herself, and knocked on the door.

* * *

It wasn’t as bad as she expected. Dr. Reynard was surprisingly easy to talk to. She didn’t push, just asked a few probing questions and let Lisbon answer in as much or as little detail as she wanted.

Lisbon was just starting to relax when things took a surprising turn…

“Talk to me about Patrick Jane,” said Dr. Reynard.

Lisbon paused.

“What about him?” she asked.

“Well, you were undercover with him for weeks pretending to be a married couple. You were then abducted and held together by two psychotic killers. Then, when you were abducted a second time, Patrick Jane is the one who found you, correct? That seems like a pretty intense relationship. How are things between you now?”

Lisbon thought about last night, and about how they had agreed to talk later, Jane having expressed a desire to clear the air. What could she tell this woman that wouldn’t betray everything?

“Teresa, you know this is a safe place, right? Anything you say is completely confidential.”

“I know, it’s just… I don’t really know how to answer your question.”

“Why not?”

“Because things between Jane and me are… complicated.” Reynard waited for her to continue. “We were close, you know, before. And going undercover…”

“You developed feelings for each other,” Reynard finished for her.

“What? No!” Lisbon cried. She couldn’t believe Reynard had seen right through her so easily. Was she that obvious? If so, why hadn’t anyone else noticed? Well, Grace had, but that was different… wasn’t it? Oh crap. What if everyone had noticed? Did everyone at CBI know that she and Jane…

“Teresa,” Reynard cut into her frantic thoughts, “it’s alright. I told you this is just between you and me. It is perfectly natural for two people working so closely like that to develop intimate feelings. Add in the threat to life, and you have a perfectly good reason to cling to each other. You rely on each other, putting your lives in each other’s hands. The two of you shared this extreme experience - no one else can understand what you went through. It’s hardly surprising that you should become so close.”

Lisbon breathed easier. This was standard, psych 101 stuff. Hell, when Reynard put it like that Lisbon almost wondered if everything that had happened between them could be put down to the stress of the operation. Except, she knew it wasn’t - at least, not for her. Those feelings had been there for a long time, hidden behind walls, pushed down and ignored. Everything that had happened had just brought them to the surface and into the light of day.

“We,” she began, haltingly, “we don’t really know where we stand right now. Jane and I… things got a little messy between us. And when the op ended, when we weren’t undercover anymore, we didn’t really know how to just… go back.” Reynard nodded encouragingly. “We were just finding some normalcy when…”

“When Eric took you.”

“Yes.”

“And in the aftermath of that, you turned to Jane for comfort and all of those feelings came rushing back.”

Lisbon nodded.

“So, the question is," Reynard continued, "where do you stand with each other now?”

“I don’t know,” Lisbon muttered. “We can’t be together, but we can’t seem to stay away from each other either. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why can’t you be together?”

Lisbon looked at her, unsure what to say to that.

“There’s technically no regulations against it,” Reynard pointed out, “Jane is a consultant, not an agent.”

“How much do you know about Jane’s history?” Lisbon asked.

“I’ve read his file,” Reynard said with a nod. “I know about the trauma in his past. Is that why you can’t be together?”

“Jane never recovered from that trauma. I don’t know that he ever will.”

“Really? Seems to me he’s coping with it fairly well.”

Lisbon stared at her, mouth agape.

“Um,” she said, “have you ever _met_ Patrick Jane?”

“I have actually, and, as I said, I’ve read his file as well as some of the case files he’s helped close.”

“And you still think he’s a good example of coping with trauma?”

“Teresa… it’s hard for me to comment on someone I’ve never treated professionally, and obviously I don’t know Jane as well as you do, but… Is he suicidal? No. Is he self-medicating with drugs or alcohol? I see no signs of that. Is he otherwise self-destructive?” She waved her hands vaguely. “He pushes people away, that is true. He’s afraid of re-traumatizing himself - anyone would be. And yet… he cares about you and your team. From what I’ve gathered, it’s clear that he views you - and to a larger extent, the CBI - as family. He let you get close whether he meant to or not. He trusts you.”

“Huh.” Lisbon thought for a moment. “I can’t believe Jane is saner than I am.”

“I didn’t say that,” Reynard said with a smile. “It’s not a competition. And I’m not saying he doesn’t have his issues: I could write a paper on the battle between his ego and his self-hatred. I’m just saying that he’s coping. Recovery from trauma is an ongoing process - there’s no magical endpoint where everything is perfect and your trauma never trips you up or hurts you ever again. You learn the tools you need, discard the ones that stop working, and pick up new ones along the way. Jane has lived with his trauma for a long time, while you’ve just barely begun to process yours. Give yourself a break.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Yes, well, that’s where I come in. Let me be your guide, Teresa, and I promise you we’ll get you the tools you need.”

After that, Lisbon began to really open up. She told Reynard about Eric and everything that had happened. She found that talking about it actually did help. It made her feel more in control of the whole experience, and of herself. Just before she left, Reynard asked one more question:

“What are you going to do about Jane?”

“We’re supposed to talk tonight. He said there were things he needed to say to me.”

“That’s good,” Reynard said with a nod. “I’m going to sign off on your evaluation so you can resume your duties, but-” she held up a hand before Lisbon could say anything, “I’m going to ask that you do two things for me: one, take a little time off, even if it’s only a couple days; and two, I’d like for you to keep seeing me once a week. It wouldn’t have to be full sessions - I know you have a lot on your schedule - but I would like to at least check in, see how you’re getting along, discuss any issues that come up.”

“For how long?”

“Let’s say a month and go from there.”

Lisbon considered that. Once a week for a month really wasn’t that much, she supposed she could deal with that.

“OK, you have a deal.”

“Excellent.” Reynard stood to shake her hand and see her out of the office. “And Teresa,” she said as Lisbon was leaving, “if you need to talk for any reason, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thanks, doc.”

* * *

Lisbon checked in with Hightower, giving her the signed evaluation, and letting her know that she would be taking off the rest of the week. Hightower seemed pleased that Lisbon’s evaluation had come back so soon, and was happy to grant her the time off. Lisbon thought, if nothing else, by the time she came back to work her bruises should have faded enough for people to stop looking at her sympathetically.

She headed for home, stopping to pick up groceries on the way - she was tired of Jane commenting on how bare her kitchen was. She also had to replenish her tea selection. She didn’t drink much herself, but Jane had put a dent in her stash during this whole drama, and she wanted to be a good hostess.

She kept thinking about what Reynard had said, wondering if she was right. Was Jane coping better than she realized? Was he capable of a relationship? She had almost brought up the fact that part of Jane’s coping was that he planned to murder Red John when he found him, but decided not to. Confidential or not, that wasn’t something she thought should be spread around too much. It was bad enough that it was somewhat common knowledge at the CBI.

Still, she thought Reynard might have a point.

Was Jane haunted by his past? Yes. Had he been broken by that past? Also, yes. But hadn’t she already considered that they had put him back together - her, and Cho, and Rigsby, and Van Pelt, and the CBI? Sure, he was still a little beaten up, maybe had a few missing pieces, but he was whole enough to function. And Reynard was right: he did care about the team. In spite of everything, he’d let them get close. Maybe she was wrong about him, maybe it wasn’t Jane who was the problem… maybe it was her.

There was no question that Lisbon had trust issues. Her mother, dead when she was just 12, and her father, falling into a bottle and never crawling back out.

Lisbon had only been in one serious relationship, and it had ended with her running away. Just like she had run away from home the moment she saw her chance. And, in a way, she’d been running ever since.

Jane wasn’t perfect - she had no delusions about that - but neither was she. And maybe, just maybe, they were better together. Maybe they _made each other better._

She arrived home, groceries in tow, and called Jane asking him to come over around 8PM. He agreed, and Lisbon got to work. She was going to cook the only dish she knew she could do reliably well: lasagna. She figured she owed Jane a meal after all the ones he’d cooked for her lately, and her brothers all insisted this was their favorite thing she ever made them growing up and still, to this day, asked her to bring it to family gatherings.

Jane arrived at 8 on the dot with a bottle of wine. She let him in, feeling a little awkward. Why did this suddenly feel like a date? Jane sniffed the air as he came in, and his eyes widened.

“Something smells delicious,” he said.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she admonished. “I can cook, I just choose not to.”

They sat at her kitchen table (she’d even dragged a tablecloth out from some forgotten shelf, as well as a single candle someone had given her for her birthday) and ate dinner.

They kept conversation to easy topics, not ready to get into anything heavy yet. When they finished, they both sat back and sipped their wine.

“So,” Lisbon said, breaking the silence, “you wanted to say something?”

“Yes,” Jane said, but then he didn’t continue.

“Jane?”

“Sorry, I’m not sure where to begin… Do you remember the night when I woke up screaming and Cho came in?”

“Yeah,” Lisbon said slowly, not sure where this was going.

“The nightmare that woke me… I dreamt that I killed you.”

“Jane…” she reached out to take his hand. “It was just a dream.”

“I know, but it represents a very real fear - if I let myself be with someone, get close to them, there’s a chance Red John will take them from me. And that would be my fault.”

“First, it wouldn’t be your fault.” Jane made a noise, but Lisbon held up her hand to silence him. “Second, Red John killed your wife and daughter to punish you for lying about him on TV - he has no reason to punish you like that again.”

“Really? Look what happened to Kristina Frye. She got close to me and-”

“Kristina Frye did what you did. She went on TV and talked about Red John like she knew him. There’s no reason to think Red John took her because she was close to you. And third, I can take care of myself.”

“Lisbon, you were taken hostage by a psycho who thought he was me. Red John is more intelligent and better organized.”

“And if Red John wanted me dead, I would be. You and I have been close for a long time now. If he wanted to take me from you, he would have.”

“Maybe.”

She released his hand.

“Is this really what you wanted to tell me? That we can’t be together because you’re afraid Red John will kill me?”

“No, I’m just warning you that I might… have some issues.”

Lisbon snorted.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said, “I kinda knew that already.”

“Lisbon, I’m serious. If something were to happen to you… I couldn’t do that again. I wouldn’t survive it. I barely survived last time. When Eric had you - that was the most terrifying hour of my life. But it also showed me something - I can’t imagine my life without you. Somehow, _not_ being with you is scarier to me than being with you. I know I’m not perfect. I’m difficult, I’m egotistical and full of self-loathing at the same time. I push people's buttons - I can’t help myself. I’m stubborn and proud and-”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Lisbon interrupted, “I know all of this already. I know you. And I’m not perfect either. I have trust issues and control issues and when things get too real I tend to run away rather than deal with how I’m feeling.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed.” He smiled softly at her and she couldn’t help but smile in return. But then Jane’s smile faded and he looked serious again. “I’m not going to give up my pursuit of Red John,” he said.

“I know.”

“And when I find him, I’m going to kill him. Even if that means I go to prison for the rest of my life or I have to go on the run to some place with no extradition and can never return home.”

“Yes, Jane, I know.”

“I just want to be clear. I love you, Lisbon, and I want to be with you, but this is something I have to do. You told me before that you couldn’t be with me unless I could give you all of myself. I can’t. I’m sorry. Part of me belongs to Red John, and maybe it always will, even after I catch him - I don’t know. But I will give you as much as I can and hope that it’s enough.”

“It’s enough,” Lisbon said quietly.

“Really? Are you sure? Because you were pretty clear on this point - what changed your mind?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been thinking about you, about us, for a while. And today, Dr. Reynard actually put some things in perspective for me.”

“A psychiatrist did something useful? Don’t see that every day.”

“Says the man who credits Dr. Sophie Miller with saving his life.”

“There are always exceptions,” Jane waved his hand dismissively.

“Anyway,” Lisbon said, rolling her eyes, “I guess I just realized that I can’t imagine my life without you either. I know it won’t be easy but… it’s what I want.”

“So… that’s it? We’re really doing this?”

“We’re really doing this.”

They fell silent, grinning happily at each other.

“Okay,” Jane said after a while, “now what?”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked.

“Kinda easy aren’t you? We just barely started dating two minutes ago and you’re already taking me to bed. Isn’t that more of a third date thing?”

Lisbon laughed.

“Stop that,” she said, hitting him on the arm.

“Ow! And she’s already abusing me - I take it back: we shouldn’t be together.”

“Nope, no take-backs. Sorry. You’re stuck with me.” She waggled her eyebrows at him and he laughed. He leaned forward and she mirrored him, and when they kissed it felt like coming home.

His fingers were in her hair, his tongue sliding against hers, and somehow they were standing and he had backed her against the counter. They continued to kiss slowly, enjoying each other without urgency. Jane’s hand snuck under her blouse and Lisbon grabbed his ass and pulled him close, feeling him harden against her stomach. She froze. She was in the house again, Eric was on top of her and she could feel him getting hard while he tried - while he…

“Lisbon? Talk to me, what happened?”

She came back to herself and found that Jane was looking very worried. He’d backed off with both hands out in front of him, not touching her. Lisbon shook her head trying to clear it of the memory.

“Lisbon?” he asked fearfully.

“I’m okay,” she said at last. “Sorry, I just - something made me remember… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. This was a bad idea-”

“What?” she looked up sharply. “No! No, this isn’t a bad idea. No take-backs remember? You can’t tell me you want to be with me and then just-”

“I meant us getting physical was a bad idea, not us being together.”

“Oh.”

“After what you went through, we shouldn’t jump into bed together. You need time to process, to heal. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled at him. “I didn’t actually mean for us to… I just wanted to sleep with you - as in, actual sleeping. Will you stay?”

“Of course.”


	19. Always

From the outside, their relationship didn’t appear to change much. Lisbon didn’t want to tell people at the CBI, so they were keeping it a secret for now. She knew it wasn’t technically against regulation, but she also knew that if people found out they would judge her for it. Not the team, of course, but other people would use it as a way to take her down a few pegs, and Lisbon had worked too hard for too long to let that happen.

She did, however, tell Grace. She felt she owed her that much. She also told Dr. Reynard, who she agreed to keep seeing even after the promised month was up. It helped, talking through the issues that came up, and being able to talk freely about Jane and about their relationship.

They took things slow. Jane stayed over most nights, but they did nothing more than kiss. Sometimes Jane was gone when she got up, but sometimes he stayed. She knew he still didn’t sleep well, but she appreciated the effort.

They went on real dates; sometimes out to nice restaurants, sometimes they stayed in and Jane would cook.

At work, things were pretty much the same between them. Jane still ran around wreaking havoc, and Lisbon tried to mitigate the damage as much as possible.

They were together two months when Lisbon finally felt she was ready for the next step. She had put what happened with Eric behind her (she hoped) and it was getting harder and harder to stop at just kissing and light fondling.

She suggested they have dinner at one of their favorite restaurants, and she got Grace to go shopping with her for a new dress.

“What about this one?” Grace asked, pulling out a long black dress.

“I am way too short to pull that off,” Lisbon said. “But you would look amazing, you should try it on.”

“Yeah, right,” Grace said with a snort. “And where, exactly, am I going to wear it? On the job? Can you see me chasing down suspects in this thing?”

Lisbon laughed.

“That is definitely something I would like to see.”

“Oh my gosh! Boss, you absolutely have to try on this one!” Grace showed her a midnight blue dress.

“I don’t know,” she said, “isn’t that a little… revealing?”

“Uh, yeah,” Grace rolled her eyes, “that’s the point! You’re trying it on.”

The dress was form-fitting and had a low v-neck showing rather more of her chest than she was typically comfortable, but Lisbon had to admit it looked stunning on her.

“Oh man,” Grace exclaimed when Lisbon came out of the dressing room. “Jane is going to lose it. Wish I could be there to see the look on his face.”

“I would think you had seen enough of the two of us for a lifetime,” Lisbon muttered. Grace ignored her.

“OK, now for the shoes. You stay right here, I’ll be back.” She dashed away in search of shoes.

“Nothing too high!” Lisbon called at her retreating back.

Grace returned with navy velvet pumps in hand.

“Here, put these on.”

“I will never be able to walk in these,” Lisbon said doubtfully, but she slipped them on anyway. She took two tottering steps and had to stop. She looked at Grace with raised eyebrows.

“Oh all right,” Grace said with a sigh. “I’ll find you something with a more reasonable heel. Gimme those.” She disappeared once more and returned with champagne-colored heels only an inch-and-a-half high.

“Much better,” Lisbon said, putting them on. The color was nice against her pale skin, making her legs look longer so they seemed higher than they really were, but she could still walk in them.

“Perfect,” said Grace. “Now, let’s talk hair.”

“Hair will either be down or in a bun, I don’t do anything more complicated than that,” said Lisbon.

“You’re no fun,” Grace pouted.

“Hey, I let you talk me into this ridiculous dress, didn’t I? If I get any fancier than this, Jane won’t even recognize me.”

“Yeah, you probably have a point. Besides, he thought you were beautiful in pant suits and sensible shoes, so…”

“Are you making fun of my wardrobe now?”

“Of course not, boss! I would never.”

* * *

She was meeting him at the restaurant and got there just a bit late so she could make an entrance (Grace’s idea). She saw him first, sitting at a table and scanning the crowd, those quick, clever eyes taking in details others miss. When he saw her, those eyes widened and a beatific smile spread across his face. He stood to greet her as she made her way over. She realized they were dressed to match, with Jane in a navy three-piece suit complete with a subtly patterned tie. He always looked good, but she thought the tie was a nice touch - made him look polished.

“Nice dress,” he said.

“Thanks,” Lisbon grinned a little shyly, “Grace helped me pick it out. You know I’m no good with that sort of thing.”

“I think you’re better than you realize, but I will have to thank Van Pelt for the assistance. It suits you.”

“This suits you,” she said, smoothing a hand over the tie.

“Meh, this is nothing - just a tie.”

“No, it looks good. Highlights your eyes.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, then leaned in to kiss her. He pulled back her chair and they both sat. “I ordered wine already, hope you don’t mind,” he said as they settled.

“Not at all.” She lifted her glass, “Happy Two Month Anniversary.” They clinked and sipped.

“Two months, huh?” he said, setting his glass down. “So we aren’t counting the time we spent living together.”

“You mean when our every move was being watched by two twisted killers and whatever agent was on duty at the time? No, I’m not counting that.”

“Good to know.”

They ate dinner, conversation moving easily between them. A lull came over dessert, which they were sharing, and Lisbon took her opportunity.

“I have something for you,” she said. Jane swallowed the bit of chocolate he had been savoring.

“Oh? I didn’t realize two months was a present kind of anniversary. You should have said - I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s not that kind of present,” Lisbon said, waving away his concern. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small paper box. “Open it.” Jane looked at her suspiciously, but pulled the lid off to find a key. “It’s a key to my place,” she explained. “I should have given you one ages ago, but, you know, ‘trust issues, control issues’ blah blah blah.”

“Thank you, Lisbon, this means a lot.”

“You knew, didn’t you,” she said.

“Maybe a little.”

“Then you probably won’t be surprised when I ask you to stay the night with me. You have to test it out, after all, make sure the key works all right.”

“Obviously.”

* * *

They had taken separate cars, but arrived almost simultaneously at Lisbon’s apartment. She waited for him at the end of her walkway, and he snuck an arm around her waist, holding her close while they walked up together. Jane used his new key and they stumbled over the threshold, unwilling to let go of each other.

As soon as the door was closed, Lisbon pushed Jane against it, crowding into his space, running both hands through his hair (it had bothered her all night with how perfect it looked, and she longed to mess it up) and drawing him down to meet her lips. She opened for him eagerly, tongues toying with each other. She felt his hands around her waist, holding her to him. They broke apart at last, gasping for breath.

“There’s something else that has been long overdue,” Lisbon said, “more than just the key.”

“Oh?” Jane said, eyes crinkling with a smile. “And what would that be?”

“I think you know. Foreplay is great and all, but this has gone on a little long.”

“All you had to do was say the word.”

“And I’m saying it.”

“Technically, you haven’t said anything yet.”

She grabbed his head and growled fiercely in his ear, “Jane, if you don’t fuck me senseless right now I am going to get my gun and shoot you in the kneecap.”

Jane swallowed hard.

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he said.

They stumbled upstairs, kicking off shoes and stealing greedy kisses as they went. Lisbon pushed his jacket off his shoulders, running hands over his chest. She tugged on his tie, drawing him down to kiss her some more, before untying it and pulling it off. She enjoyed undressing him, feeling her anticipation grow with every button she unbuttoned. When she had stripped his chest bare she pressed kisses to the flesh revealed, scratching at the dusting of blond hair there.

He swept her hair back so he could kiss her neck as her hands went to unfasten his pants. She could feel him hard and straining as she carefully pulled down the zipper. He stepped out of his pants and she ran a hand over the front of his boxers, making him shudder. He turned her around and pulled down the zipper on her dress, pushing it down to puddle around her feet. He kissed the back of her neck as he unhooked her bra, before turning her back around to slide it off and toss it aside. His hands went to her breasts, massaging and caressing. He took one in his mouth, teasing the hard nipple with his tongue, making her gasp.

He walked her back until she felt the bed behind her and dropped down on it. Jane knelt before her, kissing her thighs. He tugged at her underwear and she lifted to help him slip them down and off. Pushing her thighs apart, he drew her to the edge of the bed and licked her wet folds. Lisbon looked up at the ceiling, leaning back on her elbows as he went to work, tongue moving against her, entering her, then moving up to flick her clit sending delicious sparks up her spine. He pushed two fingers into her, pressing against her g spot with amazing accuracy, while keeping up a gentle suction on her clit.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned. “Jane…” His tongue flicked her clit rapidly and he added a third finger, fucking her harder until the waves of pleasure crested and crashed through her. She felt herself clench around his fingers as he continued to slide them in and out, fucking her through the orgasm. She collapsed, her elbows going out from under her, and lay back basking in the afterglow. Jane moved up her body, kissing as he went until he reached her lips. She sucked on his tongue, thanking it for giving her so much pleasure.

“I’m going to need a minute,” she said as they broke apart.

“Take your time - I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. He lay down beside her, one hand idly stroking her stomach, occasionally brushing over her breasts to pinch a nipple. She turned so she could look at him. She knew he was hard and wanting, but he smiled at her like they had all the time in the world - like he would lay with her like this forever if she asked him. She ran a hand through his hair then pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“OK,” she said, “I’m ready.” She moved the rest of the way onto the bed as Jane removed his boxers.

“Condom?” he asked.

Lisbon shook her head.

“I’ve been on the pill since I was 16, and I’m clean. Unless there’s something you want to tell me…?” she raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“You trust me?” he asked playfully.

“About this? Yes.” His smile faded. “What is it?” she asked.

“I haven’t… done this since…”

“Your wife?”

He nodded.

“Obviously, I’ve done other things,” he continued, “but not this.”

“Yes, I know about the other things, you did them with me, remember?”

“Not just with you, Lisbon. There have been others. Not many, but a few.”

Lisbon was surprised by this. She’d never seen or heard of Jane dating anyone, much less going home with them.

“Never anything serious,” he said. “Just… two people passing in the night.”

“One-night stands?”

“A person does have needs, Lisbon.”

“I’m not judging.”

“You are a little.”

“No, really I’m not, I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. Are you saying we _should_ be using a condom?”

“No! God no! Do you really think I would have let us do half of what we’ve already done if I hadn’t been tested? I’m an immature, self-loathing, egomaniac, but I’m not _that_ much of an asshole. I just… thought you should know that this is a big deal for me.”

Lisbon hadn’t really thought much about what this would mean for him. She had been waiting to feel ready herself, it hadn’t occurred to her that maybe Jane wasn’t ready.

“Jane, we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready-”

“No, no, I’m ready. I want to. I love you, Lisbon.”

“I love you too.”

“Good. Just so long as all the cards are on the table. I promised you honesty, after all.”

“Yes you did.” She smiled and kissed him. He moved over her and she spread her legs welcoming him in. He lined himself up and she could feel him teasing at her entrance.

“God, Jane, please, no more waiting - I want you inside me,” she begged. He grinned.

“So impatient, Agent Lisbon.”

“I swear if you don’t fuck me now I’m going to strangle you.”

“You know, you should really talk to someone about this violent- Aaah!” He cut off as she pulled on his hips while thrusting her own up to meet him and the tip of his cock popped into her. “Lisbon…” he gasped. Then, without further commentary, he pushed forward, sinking into her. He went slow, torturously slow. She could feel him stretching her, filling her. It was almost too much - an edge of pain mixed in with the pleasure.

“Fuck,” she moaned, eyes squeezed shut.

“Lisbon? You okay? Am I hurting you?”

“No no, I’m good. Keep going,” she gasped.

It seemed to take forever before he was finally flush against her. He stilled, and she was gasping, trying to breathe around the wild heartbeat in her chest. She felt impaled. Her cunt was throbbing, everything felt engorged and over-sensitive. She needed him to move, to fuck her hard. She clenched around him and he moaned. He pulled out just as slowly as he had entered her, until only the tip was left and then began to push all the way back in. The slow pace was going to drive her mad. She thought she could feel every vein as he slid into her.

“Jane, please,” she begged, “I’m not going to break. Harder, please, faster. Fuck me until I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Jane inhaled sharply.

“Happy to oblige,” he whispered in her ear. He moved so she could see his face, could see the spark in his eyes and the mischievous grin, and her heart-rate doubled.

He pulled out and slammed back in and Lisbon thought he was going to punch right out of the top of her head. She grabbed his shoulders and held on as he set a brutal pace, fucking into her fast and hard.

“Oh GOD!” she moaned, head thrashing on the pillow.

“No, still just Jane,” he gasped, continuing to piston into her like a jackhammer. Lisbon wanted to say something clever back but her brain had turned to mush. She squeezed her legs around him, and clawed at his back. Something was building inside her, bigger than anything she’d ever felt before. The throbbing between her legs was radiating outwards until she thought her whole body was about to fly apart.

Every muscle seemed to be contracting and convulsing as he thrust in and out harder and faster, the friction sending fluttering waves through her stomach and electric sparks up her spine.

She was teetering on the edge, the waves of pleasure getting bigger and closer together, when Jane pressed a thumb to her clit and sent her over so hard she blacked out for a second. He continued to fuck her as she clenched around him, but the pace became erratic.

“Oh fuck, Lisbon,” he groaned. She could feel herself squeezing him as wave after wave continued to move through her. He cried out and stilled deep inside as he found his release. Her twitching muscles milked him, and they stayed like that as they came down off their high.

Lisbon’s walls were still contracting sporadically when Jane finally pulled out. She felt a dribble of cum leak out and knew that they would both need to get cleaned up in a moment, but for right now, she was happy just to lay there like a boneless pile of afterglow.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked beside her. Lisbon shook her head.

“A little, but in a good way,” she assured him. “I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” she asked, nodding at the little half-moon indents she’d left in his shoulders.

“A little,” he said with a smile, “but in a good way.”

“I think we’ve both established that neither of us minds a little pain with our pleasure,” she said.

“No we don’t,” he agreed. “That reminds me: I seem to recall that handcuffs were mentioned at some point.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed.

“Yes they were. For you or for me?”

Jane shrugged.

“Either,” he said, “but I was thinking of me.”

“Oh really?”

“Sure. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about cuffing me to the bed and having your way with me.” He winked and Lisbon rolled her eyes.

“I can tell you I’ve thought about gagging you a number of times. And not just in the bedroom.”

“If you gag me, you won’t be able to enjoy the delights of my wicked tongue.”

“A sacrifice I’d be willing to make.”

Jane laughed and they lay quietly together for a time.

“We should probably get cleaned up,” he said after a while.

“Yeah, I was thinking that too, but I’m not sure I can get up yet.”

“You did ask me to fuck you until you couldn’t walk - I was just doing as I was told.”

“So I did.”

Eventually, they made it to the bathroom and got in the shower together. They laughed and kissed and splashed as they got cleaned up. As Lisbon stroked soap over Jane’s shaft it began to thicken and rise.

“Round two?” Lisbon asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you have it in you.”

“No more surprised than I,” he said.

“Shall I get the handcuffs?” she asked. His cock raised to its full height, bouncing against his stomach. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” she said. She turned off the shower and got out, wrapping a towel around her. Her cuffs were in her bag on the kitchen table. When she returned she found Jane, naked and waiting on the bed.

“Eager,” she said as she dropped the towel and climbed on top of him. “I like that. Too bad I have nothing to cuff you to. You’ll have to be good and keep your hands where I put them.” She put the cuffs on him then pushed his arms up over his head, briefly pressing his cuffed wrists into the mattress. “Stay.” 

She looked down at his prone body, contemplating what she wanted to do to it. She pinched a nipple and he writhed under her. Leaning over, she licked over the other nipple then bit down. Jane groaned. She moved down his body, settling between his legs. She took his erection in hand and licked over the crown. He cried out, body shuddering. She heard the click of the cuffs as he pulled against them, but he didn’t move his hands from where she’d put them. She swallowed him down as much as she could and he convulsed. Drawing her mouth off him, she stroked him lightly with her hand, spreading pre-come and saliva over his shaft. She took him in her mouth again, feeling him against the back of her throat, fighting her gag reflex to let him slip just a little further and swallowed. She heard the cuffs again as he twitched and moaned, his hips coming up slightly then jerking back down in an aborted thrust. She pulled back to breathe, then did it again.

“FUCK!” he shouted. “Lisbon, you’re going to kill me.”

She grinned. She liked torturing him, but she wanted more. She climbed up him again, straddling his hips. Taking him in hand, she lined herself up and sank down until the tip popped inside.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped. She was a little sore from earlier, and this angle was so much more intense.

“You sure you want to do that?” he asked. His eyes were glazed and he was panting. She could see red marks on his wrists where the cuffs had dug in.

“Oh yeah,” she said, “I’m sure.” She let herself drop and a few more inches sank in. She continued down, letting gravity do the work, feeling him fill her up, going slow. At last, she was fully seated, stretched and so full. Jane was watching her with awe. She ran her hands up his arms, hands closing over his cuffed wrists and pressing them into the mattress. She left them there as she began to move her hips. Little circles at first, then she began to rock back and forth. Jane was moaning, and she could feel the tension in his body as he forced himself to lie still even though he was dying to thrust up into her. She took pity and moved faster, pulling off him and dropping back down. The slide of his cock in her was lighting her up. She moved harder, faster, the pain spurring her on. He was pulling against the cuffs beneath her hands, straining against them.

She came for the third time, the hard metal of the cuffs biting into her hands as she clenched her fingers around his wrists. Her walls clamped down so hard she couldn’t move, and Jane cried out and came also. She convulsed around him as he softened inside her. She moved her hands from his and ran them through his still-wet hair. She leaned over to kiss him lazily.

“We’re going to need another shower,” he said breathlessly. Lisbon laughed.

“Nah, just a little clean up,” she said. She climbed off him gingerly. She was definitely sore, but it was a good ache, the kind of satisfyingly deep muscle ache that came from doing something fun.

She went to the bathroom and came back with a wet washcloth. Jane hadn’t moved. She cleaned him up gently before fetching the handcuff key and removing them. His wrists were rubbed raw and Lisbon kissed them.

“Let me get something for those,” she said.

“It’s fine, Lisbon, really.”

“No, at the very least they need to be cleaned.”

She got antiseptic and cotton balls from under the bathroom sink, and began cleaning the scrapes.

“I guess this is why they sell those fuzzy, padded handcuffs,” she said as she worked.

“Meh, those are for amateurs. I prefer this.”

“Geez, you really are a masochist,” she said, putting the top back on the antiseptic and going to put it away.

“You’re surprised?” Jane called.

“I guess not,” she said, returning. They got under the covers together and snuggled up. “Were you always?” she asked, “Or is that… new?”

There was a pause.

“Are you asking if Red John made me a masochist?”

Lisbon shrugged.

“I don’t know, you do punish yourself for… what happened.”

Jane pulled away so he could look her in the face.

“No, Lisbon, this isn’t… that. I don’t enjoy a little pain because I’m punishing myself. And besides, I’m not sure a few scrapes actually qualifies as masochism. You don’t see me asking to be whipped do you?” Lisbon raised an eyebrow. “And no,” he continued, “that is not something I would enjoy, thank you.”

“How do you know until you try it?” she asked innocently.

“I’m willing to negotiate a light spanking, but I draw the line at whips.”

“Riding crop?”

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. Lisbon grinned and buried her face in his chest. His arms closed around her.

“We really should look into a gag, though,” she said after a moment. “You know, something you could wear around the office.”

“Okay, very funny. Time for sleep now, funny lady.”

Lisbon was still smiling as she began to drift off. She had never known happiness like this - not since before her mother died. Against all odds, she and Jane had done it: they had found happy-ever-after. And yes, Red John was still out there, and one day Jane would find him and he would kill him. And Lisbon knew now that she would help him achieve that goal in whatever way she could. And after, no matter what the consequences, they would deal with them together - even if that meant running. Even if it meant prison. Lisbon would stick by him. Because somehow, impossibly, they had found each other.

“Jane?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?”

Jane pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Always.”

She wasn’t sure that was a promise he could keep forever, but it made her smile anyways. She didn’t know what the future would bring, but she knew they loved each other and they were happy together.

It was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your amazing support! I have felt so encouraged by all of your lovely comments, and I hope you enjoyed this final chapter.  
> I'm sad that it has to end, I have loved playing in this universe, but the story I set out to write has come to a natural conclusion and I think it's best to leave it there. I would like to think there might be a sequel somewhere in my brain, but while I've had a few vague ideas, nothing has popped out and demanded I write it yet.  
> One final note: as someone who often dives deep into the archives and reads stories that are 5 or 10 or more years old, I always feel a little weird about commenting on those, thinking that the author couldn't possibly want to hear about something they wrote years ago. But then I remember how I feel when I get an email telling me that someone has commented or left kudos on a fic I wrote, and how great that is. So if you are reading this 5 or 10 or more years from now please know that I will always welcome comments and kudos! And I'm sure that other writers feel the same, so go forth and spread joy to all the amazing authors here.  
> Thanks again, you have been wonderful readers!


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